


How Qui-Gon Accidentally Adopted a Baby

by The_Last_Kenobi



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends: Jedi Apprentice Series - Jude Watson & Dave Wolverton, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: ALL THE FLUFF, Accidental Baby Acquisition, Adorable, Baby Obi-Wan Kenobi, Fluff, Gen, Jedi, Jedi Lineages (Star Wars), Master & Padawan Relationship(s), Minor Angst, Not Canon Compliant, Protective Qui-Gon Jinn, Qui-Gon is a Good Dad, Sleepy Cuddles, Star Wars Legends: Jedi Apprentice Series References, Young Obi-Wan Kenobi, and happiness, and sweetness, cuteness, mostly cuddles
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-04
Updated: 2021-03-05
Packaged: 2021-03-08 19:40:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 26,676
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27382087
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Last_Kenobi/pseuds/The_Last_Kenobi
Summary: Literally an excuse to write fluff and cuddles.Qui-Gon rescues a potential Jedi Initiate while on a mission, and somehow ends up in charge of a very tiny Obi-Wan, who likes to hide in Qui-Gon's robes and toddle around completely unsupervised.Commence adorable hijinks and much snuggling.Prompts welcome!
Relationships: Qui-Gon Jinn & Obi-Wan Kenobi
Comments: 573
Kudos: 1176





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey darlings!  
> Now that October prompts are through, I am back to work on my WIPs. You can expect plenty of updates this month! But I got tired staying up watching the US elections, and decided to offer up some gentle fluff for you all. 
> 
> <3

Qui-Gon Jinn loved the few opportunities he got to bring new younglings into the Temple.

He wasn’t a career Seeker, or Searcher, but occasionally, in his wide roaming travels, he came across a child with the potential to be a Jedi. Sometimes the parents or guardians turned him away. Sometimes they deliberated for a time, and he had to leave and send a proper Searcher to await their decision.

And sometimes there were no guardians—or worthy guardians—and then things became a mess.

Like now, for instance.

Qui-Gon clutched the tiny child close to his chest and ran with all the strength he had, leaping over undergrowth and directly into a wide creek. The icy water swirled up around his waist, and he launched himself out onto the other bank, dropping directly into another sprint.

There were shouts and bellows from behind him, but he had an excellent lead.

And wonderful motivation.

The Jedi ran up the ramp into his ship and flung himself sopping wet into the pilot’s seat, lifting off despite blaster bolts ricocheting off the ship’s exterior.

Slowly, they rose up through the atmosphere, leaving the planet of Stewjon behind, along with the prejudiced band of extremists who had been so intent on killing the orphaned child still wrapped tightly in the Jedi’s arms. It still bewildered him, how anyone could be so willing to sacrifice a child over a single difference—especially one so lovely as Force-sensitivity.

Qui-Gon looked down into a round, ruddy little face marked by huge eyes. Two tiny hands were gripping the Master’s tabards for dear life.

“Hello, little one,” Qui-Gon murmured, gently running a large weathered hand through the child’s crown of fluffy hair. “I’m so sorry for what you’ve been through. But you’re safe now, I promise.”

One-year-old Obi-Wan Kenobi burrowed his face in Qui-Gon’s tunics, and fell asleep.

* * *

Qui-Gon set the ship to auto-pilot again and turned his chair to face the co-pilot’s seat, where he had strategically strapped in the child with a bundle of blankets and a cargo bin from a back shelf.

Two chubby hands gripped the plastoid edge as Obi-Wan pulled himself to his feet, eyeing Qui-Gon dubiously.

“Good morning,” Qui-Gon said warmly. “Are you hungry again?”

“ _Bah!_ ” Obi-Wan accused, stretching out one hand and making grabby motions.

“Ah, yes,” Jinn said solemnly. “Bah.”

The baby frowned, bouncing on his fat little feet, shaking the container a little despite the straps. “Baaaahh,” he said again, more insistently. “Bo-uh-bo. Dee.”

“Dee,” said Qui-Gon, fighting a smile and keeping his face straight.

“Dee! Bah!” Obi-Wan repeated, hitting Qui-Gon with enormous blue-green eyes and a miniature pout.

“Oh my,” Qui-Gon sighed. “Fathier-baby eyes. You win. Come on then, little one,” he said, rising to his feet and scooping his charge up in his arms again. “Food, and then perhaps I’ll distract you with holo-maps again.”

“ _Deeeeeeeee_ ,” cheered Obi-Wan.

* * *

Obi-Wan tripped and fell.

He caught himself on his hands, but unbalanced again, and fell all the way to the floor, striking his chin on the metal before Qui-Gon could catch him.

He had the baby up in his arms not a moment later, crooning sweet nothings and gently rubbing the injured chin, pouring small waves of healing into it. Obi-Wan didn’t cry. His lips wobbled sadly and his eyes grew wide again, but no tears spilled down his face.

“There, you’re all right.”

Obi-Wan wiggled in his grip.

Qui-Gon stooped to put him down, but the child squeaked in protest and held on to his arms.

“Oh. Um. All right.” Jinn stood back up, and as he did, Obi-Wan dove into his cloak and hid his face in Qui-Gon’s tunics again, his fists clutching on as they had that first day. The baby practically vanished into the robes.

“...Obi-Wan?” Qui-Gon asked uncertainly, looking down at the tufts of ginger-gold hair. “Are you going to come out?”

“Mm-mm,” the little voice mumbled into Qui-Gon’s chest.

Little arms and legs held on tighter.

“Fair enough,” agreed the Jedi, and returned to his seat, Obi-Wan hidden in his cloak and radiating warmth.

* * *

“Qui-Gon!” Mace Windu strode towards him across the landing deck, a small smile on his dark face. “You’re late, again. What happened? Your transmission told us almost nothing!”

Qui-Gon looked up at him as he walked to meet him, apparently distracted by his own cloak.

“Qui-Gon— _holy shavit! What?_ ” Mace broke off in a shout as something shifted inside his friend’s enormous cloak, and a moment later a small head poked out, blue-green eyes in a pale face watching him with as much surprise as Mace was looking at it.

Jinn grinned. “This is my newest friend. Mace, meet Obi-Wan Kenobi.”

“Hello, youngling,” Windu said, quickly recovering himself. He shot Qui-Gon an accusing look, but the maverick Jedi simply hugged the child closer and whispered, “He’s Stewjoni, Mace.”

Windu’s face softened in understanding. “Ah. Understandable. Taking him to the Healers first, then?”

Qui-Gon nodded.

“ _Bah_ ,” piped up Obi-Wan, looking rather like a disgruntled owlet, peeping at them both from the protection of the brown Jedi robes.

* * *

“I’m sorry, what?” Qui-Gon asked, dumbfounded.

Vokara Che folded her arms, smirking, lekku dancing. “You heard me.”

Obi-Wan Kenobi mumbled quietly to himself in her arms, staring down at his own feet as he kicked them around in midair.

“But—” Qui-Gon blustered. “But that—I can’t—it’s not _allowed!_ ”

Che burst into laughter, which startled the child, and then made him giggle too. A Healer and a baby, both laughing at him.

“Not allowed?” Vokara laughed. “Since when do _you_ care what’s allowed? Besides, Healer’s clearance takes precedence here, even over the Council.”

“But…” Qui-Gon said again, desperately. “I can’t just—keep a baby! I don’t know how, and I have missions to attend to!”

“Not anymore. I’ll help coach you, the Temple can provide you with supplies. You’ll be put temporarily off the mission rosters.”

Qui-Gon’s flash of _indignation_ made Obi-Wan cry.

Real tears dripping down his face, no longer wiggling about but staring between Vokara and Qui-Gon with a nervous expression. Vokara shot Qui-Gon a scolding look and held the boy out to him. Qui-Gon accepted, hesitantly tucking the child against his chest once again and swaying instinctively, trying to radiate _peace-comfort-apology._

Obi-Wan sniffled, his head leaning over Jinn’s heart, and slowly stopped his tears.

“You see?” Vokara said, shaking her head. “Whatever bonds he shared with his family were brutally severed, and then you seemingly formed a spontaneous one with him. He is much, _much_ too young to have that bond removed, especially with how strong it is—remarkably strong. Separating the two of you could emotionally and psychologically backlash on the both of you, especially little Kenobi.”

“I understand,” Qui-Gon whispered, rubbing the child’s back almost absent-mindedly. “I’ll keep him as long as needed.”

Obi-Wan snuggled happily against him, as if sensing the decision that had been made.

Qui-Gon held the child a little closer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More to come! Probably not much more, but more.
> 
> Prompts and ideas welcome!


	2. Chapter 2

Obi-Wan’s round face was filled with betrayal. His big ocean-colored eyes were wounded as he stared directly up at Qui-Gon, a deep furrow between his eyebrows.

Qui-Gon winced. “So… no to beets, then.”

The baby opened his mouth and let mushed-up beets fall out, still looking at the Jedi Master as if he’d kicked him.

Qui-Gon grimaced at the messy surface of the high chair’s tray, already dotted with bits of various foods. The child had liked carrots, apples, bananas, _turnips_ even, but not beets.

“All right, no beets,” he said decidedly, gently mopping up the mess and booping Obi-Wan on the tip of his little nose without thinking about it. The boy blinked up at him in confusion. Qui-Gon offered him a spoonful of apples. “Wash it down with something sweet?”

Obi-Wan clearly didn’t trust him anymore.

He clamped his lips shut; the Jedi prodded the spoon gently against them.

Slowly, Obi-Wan opened his mouth just wide enough to poke out his tongue, just barely tasting the apple puree. His face lit up and he quickly popped open his mouth like a baby bird and swallowed the spoonful whole.

Qui-Gon grinned.

* * *

Obi-Wan blinked up at him, barely visible in the dark room, from the cradle in which he had just been—a little awkwardly and very carefully—laid down to sleep. There were soft white sheets and a thick brown blanket beneath him, and a feather-soft blanket of a deep blue that shimmered like starlight when it caught strong light. The infant clutched it to his chest.

Then he sneezed when the soft corner tickled his nose.

Qui-Gon stifled a chuckle. “Sleep well, little imp.”

He left the room, pausing outside the door to consider how unexpected it was to have filled Feemor’s bedroom with a baby so soon after his first Padawan’s promotion to Knighthood.

He strode across the dark common area and into his own bedroom, eager to sleep after a long and very busy week.

But having a baby in his care hadn’t been as topsy-turvy as he had been expecting, though.

Satisfied, he fell asleep, letting his Force signature ring out quietly through the room, so that Obi-Wan could sense it.

* * *

“Qui-Gon?” a familiar voice said, sounding bewildered.

The tall Jedi Master was bent very low, walking slowly bowed over so that his face was hidden by his hair and his head was almost level with his knees.

“Qui-Gon?” the voice said again.

Jinn looked up, flushed, and found Feemor, his former Padawan, staring at him from just up the hallway.

“Why are you walking bent over?” he asked, eyebrows raised. “Have you dropped something? Your _brains_ , maybe, at long last? They’ve been loose for a long time.”

“You’re always so nice to me,” the Master snorted. He straightened up a little more, and the blonde Knight finally saw what Qui-Gon was doing: there was a small child in front of him, almost hidden in his open cloak, wiggling happily on his sock-clad feet and gripping one of Qui-Gon’s thumbs in each little fist, using the big Jedi for balance.

“Feemor, meet Obi-Wan Kenobi. Obi-Wan, this is Feemor.”

“Luh-luh,” Obi-Wan chirped, waving one of his fists—and making the hand he was holding wave too, making both Feemor and Qui-Gon chuckle.

“Hello,” Feemor said, coming closer and dropping into a crouch so that he was closer to Obi-Wan’s eye level. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, youngling. Are you learning how to walk?”

“Yus!” Obi-Wan cheered, recognizing at least some of the words.

Feemor smiled, looking quite charmed. “Why are you hanging about with grumpy old Qui-Gon? Hm?”

“Bah,” Obi-Wan explained.

“ _So_ nice to me,” Qui-Gon complained, still half bent-over. “Obi-Wan is—well, he’s my ward, basically. For a while.”

“Your what?” The golden-haired Knight said, confounded. Obi-Wan mouthed soundless nonsense at him, happy to have a friendly face at his height.

“He…his family was killed,” Qui-Gon said quietly. “And we formed a bond. Or the Force formed it for us. We’re still not sure. So…”

Feemor’s eyes had filled with sadness at the first words, and he looked down a little at the child’s innocent face. But as Qui-Gon trailed off, Feemor looked back up at him with a sudden grin and said, “Oh my gosh. You adopted a kid.”

Qui-Gon’s jaw dropped. “No. No, no I didn’t!”

“Yes you did!”

“No I didn’t, that’s not even allowed—”

“Master Tahl!” Feemor called down the corridor. “Come meet Qui-Gon’s kid!”

A woman's voice yelled back, "QUI-GON'S WHAT?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompts and suggestions welcome! <3


	3. Chapter 3

Qui-Gon emerged from the fresher, wrapped in clean nightclothes and pressing water from the ends of his long hair with a towel.

He stopped short.

“…Tahl?”

“Shhhhh,” said Tahl. “We’re concentrating.”

“But Tahl—”

“Shhhh, Qui. Concentrating.”

“But _Tahl!_ ” Qui-Gon cried. “What if you drop him?!”

Tahl laughed from where she stood by the stove, stirring a pot of something that steamed and smelled truly fantastic, with a small, copper-haired child floating in midair by her side, happily tumbling about with absolutely zero fear.

Obi-Wan spotted Qui-Gon and gave a burbling giggle and tried to wave—

And flipped over headfirst twice.

Qui-Gon yelped.

Tahl didn’t seem bothered in the slightest. “Qui-Gon, Qui-Gon, he’s perfectly fine. I’m perfectly centered. He’s been floating for almost half an hour now. Why _does_ it take you so long to shower?”

“But—no—come _here_ —” Qui-Gon raced across the room, scooped Obi-Wan out of thin air and pinned him to his side, sitting firmly on his hip. Obi pouted, looking up at him with disappointment, but was quickly distracted by the Jedi’s long damp hair, which was once again in easy reach of his curious grabby hands.

“Qui,” Tahl laughed. “He was _fine_. I do the same thing with the creche babies; _all_ the Masters levitate the children. We’re careful and experienced.” She stirred what looked to be a thick, spiced soup once more and turned to him, eyebrows raised, hands on her hips with a ladle in one hand. “I’ve never known you to be so overprotective.”

“I’m not overprotective!” Qui-Gon argued.

“You’re besotted with that baby,” his best friend teased.

“I most certainly am _not_!”

Obi-Wan’s hand scrabbled against Qui-Gon’s lips accidentally as he tried to grab some of the Jedi’s hair.

Without thinking, Qui-Gon shook his head and grabbed the small arm, pressing a kiss to Obi-Wan’s palm and murmured “Uh-uh, no no,” and gently pushed the hand away from his face. He looked back up at Tahl, still defiant. Completely oblivious.

Tahl put a hand over her face.

* * *

The comm unit chimed.

Qui-Gon answered with a stifled yawn. “Jinn.”

“Master Jinn,” came a calm voice. “The Council requires your presence at the thirteenth hour.”

A frown crossed his face. “All right. Thank you.”

He glanced across the room towards the door to the Padawan room, where Obi-Wan had been napping for only twenty minutes. The Council couldn’t be sending him on an assignment, so why did they require his presence? Was it to do with the child, or was this a consulting moment, where they were sending a Knight on a mission to a planet and wanted the advice of someone who had prior experience on that planet? The possibilities were limitless.

The possible list of available babysitters, on the other hand?

That was very much not limitless.

***

Qui-Gon showed up in the High Council Chambers with a very sleepy baby curled against his shoulder. Obi-Wan’s face was pink from tiredness and he had his soft sky-colored blanket wrapped around him. Every few minutes he would stir and rub his face into the downy fabric, looking grumpy.

Every single Councilor struggled not to smile at the sight.

“Master Jinn,” said Mace Windu as solemnly as possible. “I didn’t realize you would be bringing a guest.”

“There wasn’t any time to find someone to watch him,” the maverick Jedi explained, rubbing a hand up and down Obi-Wan’s back and trying to look dignified. “Master Che encouraged me not to leave him with people he is unfamiliar with, and both Feemor and Tahl are off-planet.”

“Sorry, we are, to inconvenience,” Master Yoda said gently. “And interrupt little one’s nap, hmmm?”

As if on cue, Obi-Wan fussed against Qui-Gon’s shoulder, kicking one foot out of his blanket bundle and whining in his sleep.

Qui-Gon bundled him back in, patting the back of the velvety head, and swayed gently on the spot, looking not at all embarrassed. The baby settled. Master Yoda smiled at them both.

“Master Qui-Gon, we won’t keep you,” said Master Nu politely. “We simply need you to re-file a report on your last assignment Jarien V. The original mission report is…lacking, and we are sending a Team out there the day after tomorrow. Will you be able to do this?”

“Certainly,” said Jinn. “I remember Jarien V.”

“I hope so,” said Windu wryly. “Your initial report simply said, ‘ _This was an unmitigated disaster. Why did nobody explain the religious language that makes it impossible for outsiders to negotiate with the theocratic government? Don’t send anyone here alone._ ’”

Qui-Gon did look a little embarrassed at that. “Mmm…yes. Sorry.”

Obi-Wan lifted his head and looked around the room with bleary eyes. Conversation stopped as everyone returned his curious look with equally curious looks. Each of the adults was gently radiating warmth-peace-kindness-interest-calm, swamping the room with it.

Obi-Wan gave a wide milky yawn. “… _Luh-luh_ ,” he whispered, and went right back to sleep, snuggling his cheek against Qui-Gon’s chest.

“Free to go, you both are,” said Master Yoda, his eyes twinkling. “To work with you, to bed, young Kenobi.”

Leaving behind the easiest and most companionable Council meeting he had ever participated in, Qui-Gon Jinn nodded and strode calmly out of the room, careful to keep the child in his arms steady, and looking smaller than ever in the large Jedi’s arms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Loving the couple prompts I've gotten! You can expect to see them soon! <3


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Obi stresses out Dad-Qui a little, because he's trouble and also is a teensy bit traumatized for a baby.

  
Obi-Wan had once again abandoned proper eating protocol.

Today, he had taken advantage of his guardian turning his back for a few minutes, and decided to pour out all his food - the puree, the gently chopped veggies and fruits, and a soft bread puff filled with cream - all over his tray.

Then he had shoved both his little hands into the jumble and mushed and mushed and _mushed_ it together into a gloriously colorful and sticky mess, wiped his fingers clumsily on his shirt, and then carefully used them to draw random squiggles and shapes into the disaster.

Qui-Gon almost dropped the datapad he was holding when he saw it. 

He had to turn away again to hide his laughter; when he finally turned back, his face was flushed and his eyes were dancing.

"Dee!" Obi-Wan said exultantly, throwing his goopy hands in the air. "Fooo. _Gluh_ -fa!" 

"Is that so, you little imp?" Jinn asked, his voice strained with hidden laughter. 

"Foo," Obi-Wan confirmed.

A drop of what had once been strawberry fell from one of his raised fists and plopped directly onto one of Obi's little drawings. The child stared at it for a moment, and then frowned deeply and began solemnly redrawing the messed-up line. 

Qui-Gon caught his hands, wrinkling his nose at the feel of sticky food on his callused hands. Obi-Wan turned his frown on the Jedi.

"Perhaps I ought to let you finger paint with actual paint," Qui-Gon proposed thoughtfully. "Food is for eating, not for pretty pictures."

Obi-Wan appeared to consider this for a moment.

Qui-Gon released his hands so he could begin mopping up the tray, and as soon as he did, Obi-Wan began ceremoniously streaking his small face with smears of food, like a warrior painting their face for a fight.

" _Foo_ ," he chirped.

* * *

Qui-Gon’s heart skipped a beat.

Obi-Wan wasn’t on the blanket in the common area where he had left him not three minutes before, happily playing with a set of colorful (and now very slobbery) ring toys. The rings were there, but the boy wasn’t.

Since he had taken the boy from Stewjon two weeks previously, Obi-Wan had proven a very content child. He wasn’t much for fussing, and never longer or louder than he needed to get what he was after—food, or sleep, or a change, or simply attention.

And he always stayed where he was placed—not that Jinn ever left him unsupervised long.

Obi-Wan was content to be still...

Except, apparently, for right now.

“Obi-Wan?” he called.

There was no answer.

Not even the sound of the baby crawling or toddling around nearby.

“Obi-Wan?” he tried again, rounding the projected counter to see if the child had wandered into the kitchen. No such luck. “Where are you? Obi-Wan, come out!”

Qui-Gon turned sharply and hurried into the child’s bedroom, and then back into his own just in case Obi-Wan had somehow slipped past him while he had stepped in there to answer a comm call from Feemor, who had needed to vent about some very petty politicians on Rodia.

The child wasn’t in either of their rooms, or the fresher.

“No no no,” Qui-Gon chanted under his breath, rushing towards the door. “He _didn’t_ go out. He couldn’t. He’s too little. _Oh no no no no—”_

_“Dee?”_

Qui-Gon whirled around just before he reached the doorway and scanned the room wildly.

For a moment he thought he had been imagining things, wishful thinking, but then—a dark bundle between one of the sofas and the wall began to move, flopping around comically, and then a small hand shot out, quickly followed by a head with very tousled ginger-blonde hair.

“Dee!” Obi-Wan said happily, trying to walk towards him but falling, caught up in—

It was one of Qui-Gon’s travelling cloaks.

He had dropped it at some point, forgotten where it was, and apparently Obi-Wan had decided it would be a fantastic idea to crawl into it. And, judging by the pinkness of his cheeks and his slightly puffy eyes, he had fallen asleep in it too.

“Obi- _Wan!_ ” Qui-Gon exhaled forcefully, rushing over and picking his ward up, gently disentangling him from the cloak. He discarded the robe without a second thought and lifted Obi up into the air in front of him so they were almost at an eye level.

“And just what were you doing?” he asked, slightly shaken, but mostly amused. Mostly.

Obi-Wan blinked owlishly. “…Foap. Hiiiii-foap. Dee?”

“Mm-hmm,” sighed Qui-Gon. He gently brushed down the mussed hair and settled Obi-Wan securely on his hip so that he could bend down and pick up the dusty cloak—to put it safely in the wash pile, where babies couldn’t crawl into it and give him heart attacks.

* * *

Master Che smiled down at Obi-Wan as she checked him over. His wide eyes flickered from her smile to her lekku to Qui-Gon hovering in the background, and he grinned back, clearly pleased.

“He’ll need another round of inoculations later this week, but otherwise he’s physically very well. You’ve done a great job, Master Jinn,” Vokara informed him, slipping the child back into proper tunics and tickling the bottoms of his chunky feet for good measure.

Obi squealed and kicked his feet around, grabbing at them with his hands as if to protect them. He looked somewhat like a baby hedgehog that hadn’t _quite_ got the knack of curling into a ball.

Qui-Gon smiled down at him. “I’m glad to hear that,” he told the Healer in a relieved tone. “And—mentally? Is the bond…is everything…”

Vokara stroked one finger down Obi-Wan’s temple to the tip of his nose, making him blink in surprise. His little mouth popped open.

“I’m about to put him in a light meditative trance to check,” she answered. “His emotions tell me that he’s happy, but I can’t be sure about the state of his mind until I look. It won’t hurt him at all, but stick close. It will help ground him if he can sense you’re nearby.”

Qui-Gon nodded and quickly pulled over a chair to sit directly beside the cushioned table that the child was laying on.

Vokara rested one hand gently over the baby’s chest, splaying her fingers, and closed her eyes. A moment later, Obi-Wan appeared to doze off, his eyes closing lightly and his breaths coming slowly and steadily. Jinn could feel the interaction between Healer and patient in the Force. Soft. Like small waves on a lake-shore.

After a few minutes, Master Che opened her eyes.

There was a pause.

“Well?” Qui-Gon said, confused.

She glanced down at the child, who opened his eyes at her gentle mental nudge.

“The bond is flourishing,” she said slowly. “It’s extremely deep. Removing it later on may still pose a problem. _However_ —” she said, raising a hand to cut off Jinn’s bewildered questions, “I’m more concerned about his sleeping habits at present.”

“His sleeping habits?”

“Yes. Has he been sleeping regularly? Peacefully?”

“I think so. I don’t sense anything amiss, and he never fusses when I put him down.”

Vokara frowned slightly. “Hmm. And what about in the morning? Is he anxious or angry when he cries for you?”

“Cries?” Qui-Gon asked blankly. “Obi-Wan doesn’t cry in the mornings. I just walk in and find him waiting for me. Have I been getting him too late? Too early?” he questioned.

The Healer sighed. “I think this little one is a natural shielder. Especially at night. It would make sense – with the trauma he experienced on Stewjon… Qui-Gon, I don’t think he’s sleeping soundly. Most likely stress, some sort of trigger having to do with nighttime. He’s probably too frightened to cry.” 

Qui-Gon gaped at her in horror. “What? What – so what do I do?”

“I would suggest… letting him sleep in your bed, with you. At least for a while. Eventually we can move him to a cradle beside your bed, and gradually move it farther away, but for now—”

“Done,” said Qui-Gon immediately.

He looked down at the copper-haired imp who had so upended his life, who was currently staring brightly back at him while attempting to gnaw on one of his feet.

“You and I, we’re quite stuck with each other, aren’t we?” he asked, not a little warmly.

Obi-Wan blew a raspberry at him and held out his arms to be picked up.

Qui-Gon obliged.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompts and ideas still welcome! <3 The ones already given to me will come up soon, if they haven't already!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the second update today! Don't miss the previous one, there was some ~PLOT~

Qui-Gon hesitated, suddenly unsure of himself.

For an entire fortnight he had been following the exact same routine with Obi-Wan at bedtime, and it had been a simple one.

Now, though, his head was spinning with thoughts and questions.

What if this made Obi-Wan more upset?

What if it didn’t help at all?

What if the one-year-old rolled off the edge of the bed and hurt himself?

What if Qui-Gon accidentally squashed him? The child was tiny!

And even more what-ifs spun round and round in his mind.

But there was no more time to consider them; the child was practically asleep on his shoulder, and if Qui-Gon didn’t settle him soon, Obi-Wan would cry when he was moved.

The Jedi Master quickly went to the opposite side of the bed and adjusted the pillows, putting two against the headboard and two down the side, tucking the blankets tightly against them to form a sort of cushion barricade down one side of the bed. He smoothed out a space near it and laid down one of Obi-Wan’s white sheets in a messy little oval, and then set the baby on top of it.

Obi-Wan’s eyes fluttered sleepily up at him.

Qui-Gon gently draped his comfort blanket in the boy’s arms, and then rushed around to the open side of the bed and slid into the sheets, turning on his side to watch the baby.

He blinked.

Obi-Wan was staring at him with wide, surprised eyes that gleamed darkly in the gloom, his little mouth making tiny popping noises as he opened and closed his lips, apparently entertained by the sensation.

Qui-Gon stared back.

Obi-Wan kept on staring.

Qui-Gon’s worries came back as he began to wonder if being this close was unnerving his ward, or if perhaps he had waited too long to settle him and now Obi-Wan was wide awake—

But then Obi-Wan gave a huge yawn, closed his glassy eyes, and rolled towards Qui-Gon until they were less than a foot apart. He curled up halfway and pushed his pajama-clad feet forward so that they rested against Qui-Gon’s stomach, and bent his head forward so that their faces were separated by mere inches.

And fell asleep at once.

Warm baby-breath smelling faintly of milk and apples and that undefinable pink-gentle-baby scent that always permeated the Crèche nursery stirred the air every so often, and without thinking Jinn reached out with his free arm and draped it gently over the child, bracing his hand against Obi-Wan’s back to keep him in place.

Cautiously, hardly daring to breathe, Qui-Gon then reached out with his senses.

He discovered that Vokara Che had likely been right—that Obi-Wan Kenobi had been instinctively shielding, to hide himself in the dark, to hide from something –from _someone’s_ , more likely, and the urge to go back and _punt_ those child-murdering extremists into Wild Space was strong—because now, those shields were slightly softened, slightly lowered.

Qui-Gon felt Obi-Wan sink into dreams and contended sleep, and before he could do more than smile, the big Jedi was asleep as well.

* * *

“Pffbubfffffffffttsssssss!”

Qui-Gon erupted into laughter, warm and rolling. He leaned backwards where he was sitting lotus-style upon the grass, bracing himself on his hands.

Obi-Wan tottered across the lush lawn, almost dancing in ecstasy, which only made him less balanced. His tiny shoes wobbled and he pinwheeled for a second before falling. He was up again a moment later, still toddling around near the bushes that flowered all over this particular Temple garden, his chubby cheeks dimpled with a massive smile.

“Pfbubfftsss!” He cried. _“Bub-fubfttssss!”_

He stretched out both little hands and bumbled over to a bush bedecked with thousands of miniscule yellow blossoms.

As soon as he approached, something shifted, and dozens of colorful objects of various sizes swirled into the air and danced around the child and then up and away; one brushed against his face and made him gasp in delighted appreciation.

He spun around unsteadily on the grass and beamed at Qui-Gon.

“Bah!” he shrieked. “Dee! Bubfubfttsssss! Buuubfubbtssss!”

“Yes, Obi,” Qui-Gon said indulgently, smiling so hard his face hurt. “ _Butterflies_.”

He held out a hand in the air, sitting upright again with his legs still crossed, and gently sent out a sweet Force-suggestion.

A second later, a glittering orange-and-teal butterfly landed on his outstretched finger and spread it wings, basking in the sunlight.

Obi-Wan watched in amazement.

Qui-Gon smiled at him. “Come see, little imp. Nice and slowly, now. Soft. Soft.”

“ _Foff_ ,” Obi-Wan whispered, walking very slowly closer, his eyes trained on the friendly butterfly.

When he was near enough, Qui-Gon whispered, “Hold out your hand. No, other way. Yes, like that.” And then sent out another soft suggestion. The butterfly fluttered over to rest on the back of Obi-Wan’s small hand.

“Ohhhhhh!” the child whispered, his mouth open in a perfect circle. “Ohhhhh!”

“Very gentle, Obi-Wan,” Qui-Gon reminded him, rather unnecessarily. The ginger-haired child was standing as still as he could, watching his newfound companion with sparkling awe unique to childhood and all its wonderful ways. 

They sat side by side in the sun, Obi-Wan watching the butterfly, and Qui-Gon watching Obi-Wan.

* * *

“Qui!” Tahl strode confidently down the ramp of her shuttle, looking a little battered from her mission but perfectly at ease. She was always a striking figure—tall, as all the near-humans from her planet of Noori were—with skin of deep tawny-brown. Her hair, which looked like it had come loose from its usual complex array of long braids, was a storm of black ringlets. Like many Noorians, her eyes were striped in color, in Tahl’s case bright shades of green and gold.

Qui-Gon was most enthralled by her smile, which she was currently blessing him with as she walked in his direction, heedless of the trail of mud coming off her boots.

A nearby droid whined at the sight of the dirty trail.

Tahl kept smiling at him, radiating warmth and relief to be back home.

“Tahl,” Qui-Gon said. “It’s good to have you back among us.”

“Well, can’t leave this place unsupervised for too long,” Tahl said nonchalantly. “Myself and Madame Nu are the only ones with any sense.”

The maverick Master raised his eyebrows and fell into step with her as they exited the hangar, heading towards the residential wings. “Only ones? Not even Feemor?”

“Not yet. Too young. He’ll grow into it though, he’s surprisingly not ruined by your teachings.”

“Hey!” Qui-Gon said, feigning deep offense. “Well, what about Master Yoda? Or Mace?”

“Yoda’s a meddling little troll and Mace got a stick up his arse the second he took the Council seat, poor man,” Tahl dismissed.

“Irreverent.”

“But accurate!”

Qui-Gon expected to escort Tahl to her rooms, but for some reason she turned early and began walking to his quarters.

Perhaps she wanted tea?

Pleased, Qui-Gon happily followed without question, enjoying a lively chat with his oldest and closest friend.

Tahl’s dazzling smile dropped the _second_ they entered his dim and cool rooms.

She rounded on him, looking _distinctly_ put out.

“What?” Qui-Gon asked, flabbergasted.

“Where’s Obi-Wan?” Tahl almost whined. “You didn’t have him with you, I assumed he was napping!”

“No…” Qui-Gon said, feeling a dawning sense of horror. It suddenly occurred to him that Tahl was not going to be happy with him.

“Where’s your baby, Qui-Gon Jinn?” Tahl shouted. Her two-toned eyes flashed dangerously.

“Umm…” Qui-Gon glanced at the chrono on the wall.

“You don’t know?!”

“No, I do, it’s just that – Master Nu created a roster of babysitters so that Obi can branch out, become familiar with others – and—”

Tahl’s eyes widened. “Jocasta…betrayed me…”

Qui-Gon finished weakly, “And…it’s after four, now so – I think he’s with – Mace for the next two hours?”

Tahl Uvain erupted from Qui-Gon’s apartments like a thundercloud, her robes swirling dangerously around her. _“Mace Windu!”_ she screamed down the hallway. Her Force signature flared warningly, sending out an only _partially_ faked bolt of rage. _“GIVE ME BACK MY BABY!"_

Elsewhere in the Temple, a dark-skinned Jedi Master clutched a baby to his chest and said, “Uh-oh.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tahl deals with Mace with extreme prejudice, and Obi-Wan digs himself even deeper into Qui-Gon's heart.

Yoda, Cin Drallig, Qui-Gon Jinn, and a baby stood together in a line, watching with interest.

Qui-Gon bounced Obi-Wan gently on his hip, pointing out all the sights.

“Now, see, Mace is going to get his butt kicked by Tahl,” he explained.

Across the room, Tahl gave an echoing yell as she brought her blue lightsaber crashing down against Windu’s purple one; Mace had to drop briefly into a kneeling position just to hold her at bay.

“Mace, truly, is the better warrior…” Qui-Gon whispered, as if afraid his friend would hear him in the middle of her duel. “But he’s always been a _bit_ afraid of Tahl Uvain. So yes, he’s going to get his butt kicked.”

“Tah!” Obi cheered, wiggling around joyfully and holding out his hands towards Tahl, who was back on the defensive again and looking enraged about it. “Tah, Tah!”

“Hold on Obi-Wan, I’m busy,” she called back.

Tahl took the offensive again, executing a string of daring Ataru flips interspersed with her own particular brand of Niman.

Yoda and Cin seemed to be betting very quietly under their breath.

“I was babysitting him as a _favor!”_ Mace shouted, dancing backwards and keeping Tahl’s blade at bay with a series of lightning-quick ripostes. “It was Master Nu’s idea, and Qui-Gon agreed!”

“I don’t care,” said Tahl cheerfully. “You took that child, when the custody agreement clearly states he’s Qui-Gon’s, mine, and Feemor’s!”

 _“Custody agreement?!”_ Mace and Qui-Gon shouted at the same time.

“Shut up Qui-Gon, you know it’s true!”

“No it’s not—”

Obi-Wan interrupted, bouncing excitedly and clapping his hands. “Tah, Tah! Dee!”

“Obi-Wan agrees!” cried Tahl.

Mace, Qui-Gon, Cin, and Yoda exchanged glances.

They all nodded.

“…Fine. Babysitting will be renegotiated,” Mace offered, gritting his teeth as he and Tahl both flung their full weight behind their sabers and met in the middle, energy spitting from the clashing plasma.

Tahl grinned and stepped back. “That’s a start, at least.”

She turned and walked directly over to Qui-Gon, holding out her hands. In Jinn’s arms, Obi-Wan giggled—an actual, bubbling sound that sent bell-like ripples out into the Force—and leaned so hard towards her that if Qui-Gon hadn’t kept such a good hold on him, he would have fallen to the floor.

Tahl grabbed the child and spun him in a circle, grinning as his laughter turned to high-pitched shrieks of delight.

“Yes, yes, am I the best warrior in this Temple?” Tahl teased him. “Does Tahl fight for little Obi? Yes she does!” And then she swept out the door with him.

“Hey…” Qui-Gon said slowly. “ _Hey!_ Tahl! You can’t just _take_ him!” He sprinted after them.

* * *

It was common now, after less than a month, to spot the Temple-bound Master Jinn wandering the corridors and gardens of the Jedi Temple, with a copper-haired child either in his arms or walking in front of him with one or both fists clinging to the man’s hands.

Obi-Wan was a bright child—in the Force, and in his appearance, all round cheeks and brilliant eyes and an always-laughing mouth.

It was hard _not_ to spot him.

Which was why it was a bit weird to see Qui-Gon striding along, a little slowly, but without Obi-Wan.

The long-haired Jedi Master had his arms folded into his billowing sleeves and he seemed perfectly serene, nodding to passing friends and smiling at a group of excited younglings being escorted to meal.

He _looked_ alone, but Obi-Wan Kenobi was _there_.

Anyone bothering to look could sense his only partially, naturally shielded mind, swirling like gold-dust-sunlight-sand-in-the-water, warm and bubbly.

“Master Jinn,” Vokara Che greeted him, looking puzzled.

“Master Che,” he replied, coming to a halt.

“What are you up to?” she asked, putting a hand on one hip. “I can sense young Kenobi, but I can’t see him. Explain that, Master Jedi.”

A smile tugged at his lips. “I don’t know what you mean. Obi-Wan is right here.”

“Oh is he?” Vokara said, smirking back at him. “Where?”

“Luh-luh!”

The Twi’lek looked around, surprised, but there was still no baby to be seen. She walked around Qui-Gon in a tight circle, but Obi-Wan wasn’t hiding behind the Jedi either.

“Obi-Wan?” she asked, tilting her head curiously. “Obi-Wan, where are you?”

“Luh-luh- _luh-luh!”_

Obi-Wan erupted from Qui-Gon’s cloak like a squirrel leaping from a tree, landing on his hands and knees on the floor and beaming up at both adults. “Dee!” he shouted.

“He was sitting on my foot and holding onto my leg,” Qui-Gon explained with a chuckle. “It’s efficient, and he has a penchant for hiding in my cloaks.”

Vokara knelt down and smiled at the child, careful not to invade his space too closely. “Hello, youngling. Do you like hiding? Feel safe in his giant’s robes, don’t you?”

Obi-Wan agreed with a cheerful, “Bah!”

* * *

Qui-Gon sat cross-legged again, this time on a large plastic-sheened tarp that was spread all over the floor of his quarters. The furniture was all tucked away in other rooms, leaving a vast open play-space for Obi-Wan and himself.

The tarp was scattered with blank canvases.

Qui-Gon had a circular frame in front of him and was currently painting the planet Noori and its moons across the surface.

He wasn’t an artist, exactly, but he enjoyed playing with color.

Obi-Wan, surprisingly, was much less messy than he had been with the food.

He had three canvases sitting around him, and was systematically covering them with colors. The one on the far left was green and blue and a big blob of purple. The one on the right was covered in sticky, globby baby-handprints in every shade imaginable, including some strange mixes. And the one in the middle was a weirdly pretty array of colorful streaks of paint, because that was what Obi was using to “clean” off his hands between different colors.

“What are you painting, Obi?” Qui-Gon asked him.

“Oh-lolo,” Obi-Wan informed him, sticking out his tongue between his lips as he concentrated on making two bright yellow handprints on the correct canvas. “Pat, pat. Pat-pat-pat.”

“Indeed,” Qui-Gon praised him. “You’re very good, Obi-Wan.”

“Doooooo!” Obi-Wan said gleefully. He slapped his hands harder on the painting, spraying yellow across three feet of tarp.

“Fascinating,” said Qui-Gon, attempting to rub speckled yellow off his leg. “Yellow is a very friendly color. I approve.”

“Bu-low-blee,” Obi-Wan said in sing-song, moving his hands to his middle canvas and wiping off the sunshine-yellow as best he could. “Bu-low-bleeee, bleee, bleee…Bu-low-bleeee, bleee, bleee… Dee!” He held up his hands to Qui-Gon for inspection.

By now, the chubby palms were multicolored with the remains of every other shade he’d used, settled into the creases of his hands and wrists, a dried-up rainbow mosaic.

Big blue-green eyes blinked at him. “Boo, reh, bu-low, bleee…” Obi said slowly. “…Dee?”

“Are you saying colors?” Qui-Gon asked him, his voice bubbling with warmth. “Are you, little one? What color is…this?” He turned his own round canvas around and pointed to the water of Noori.

“Boo!” Obi-Wan shouted.

“And this?” Qui-Gon shifted his finger to one of the bright pink stripes on Obi-Wan’s center canvas.

“ _Piiiii_ …” Obi-Wan tried. A deep wrinkle appeared in his forehead, and he tried again. “ _Peeee_ …Peee-kuh. _Pee_ -kuh.”

He still didn’t look satisfied with his pronunciation.

Qui-Gon didn’t care. He leaned forward and booped Obi-Wan lightly on the nose, leaving a dab of white paint behind.

Obi’s eyes crossed as he tried to see it.

Qui-Gon laughed, feeling lighter and more relaxed than he could remember in… perhaps ever?

Without quite thinking about it, he stooped and placed a soft kiss to the crown of Obi-Wan’s forehead.

They stared at one another for a moment.

Then very deliberately, Obi-Wan smiled and held out his painted arms and peeped, “Up!”

Qui-Gon smiled and picked up the child, standing up to his full height and staring around at the messy room scattered with brightly colored canvas, and paint somehow splattered from wall to wall. And of course, all up Obi’s arms and on his cheeks, and now his nose, too.

“Come along, little one,” Qui-Gon said affectionately, “Master Che says we can step up from cloth-baths to a real bath. How would you like that? Would you like a bath, Obi-Wan?”

Not understanding a word, Obi-Wan simply leaned forward and smacked a sloppy little kiss on Qui-Gon’s cheek, leaving a streak of white paint behind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still loving your prompts!  
> Several people have asked about Dooku... next chapter! ;) So close.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bath time, plus a long-awaited arrival...

Qui-Gon took a deep breath.

“Right,” he told himself. “You’re a Jedi Master. You’re fully armed. With…washcloths…and cotton balls…and gentle soap…and lots and lots of towels. You can do this. Easily.”

Obi-Wan, clad only in his diaper, was sitting on his lap and gnawing on one of his ring toys, slowly slobbering the entire thing. It was dedicated work. He was completely distracted from the warm bath that they were sitting next to, or his guardian’s increasing stress.

“Towels, very important…” Qui-Gon mumbled. “And the basket.”

He picked up a small white container with woven-pattern sides, and slowly lowered it into the bathtub, holding Obi-Wan safely against him as he did.

When submerged, the basket suctioned to the bottom of the bath, and the openings in the plastic flooded the container with water—a miniature tub so that the baby wouldn’t slip around in too large a body of water.

“Right.” Qui-Gon said. “Here goes.”

He took off the baby’s diaper, and gently, slowly, lowered his feet into the water.

Obi-Wan blinked down in surprise as his feet sank into the silky-warm waters.

Qui-Gon waited.

After a moment, Obi kicked his feet around, splashing. His round face lit up like a sun. “Fee!”

Smiling, Qui-Gon lowered him a little further, gradually sinking Obi-Wan up to his waist. His feet were now on the bottom of the bath-basket. Obi-Wan was watching the process with huge blue eyes, but he didn’t look frightened or upset in the least.

Just curious.

The Jedi gently settled Obi-Wan into a sitting position with his back against one side of the basket, making sure he kept one hand around him so that he couldn’t slip underwater if he tried. With the bath-basket, Obi was only up to his chest in water.

Qui-Gon waited again.

Obi-Wan experimented.

He wiggled his toes, and kicked his feet, watching with fascination as ripples appeared on the surface. The waves distorted his view of his feet, and he fell still, shocked.

After a few seconds, the water stilled again, and Obi-Wan wiggled more, causing more waves.

“Fee?” he asked, looking up at Qui-Gon.

“It’s a bath, Obi-Wan,” Qui-Gon told him. “We’re going to get you all clean. _Bath time, bath time_ ,” he lilted, mimicking Obi-Wan’s sing-song from earlier during painting. “We like baths.”

“Baaaasss,” Obi-Wan echoed. “Baaaas, baaaas.”

He lifted his arms, and seemed startled to find them submerged, too. Chubby hands played with the water, making little grabby-motions, splishing and splashing. The light caught on all the little ripples, and the child watched them, mesmerized. He wiggled his fingers and wriggled his whole body, watching the water react to him, feeling it splash and swirl.

Then Obi slapped the surface of the bath, and received a face full of water.

Qui-Gon inhaled sharply, ready to pull him out and dry him off, but Obi just sputtered and blinked rapidly—

And then beamed.

 _“Baas!”_ he crowed. “Baas!” 

Qui-Gon smiled. “Baths.”

He spent the next few minutes gently wiping away all the paint, sending swirls of color into the water that dissolved into nothing. He rubbed Obi-Wan down with foaming soap that smelled of vanilla and something vaguely fruity, rinsed him off again, and then softly massaged his hair full of the same.

“Here we gooooo,” Qui-Gon sang, positioning one large hand behind Obi-Wan, cradling his shoulders and neck, and leaning the baby backwards so that he was almost floating on his back, making sure to keep his face and ears out of the water. He gently scrubbed the bubbles out of his hair, checked him over once more, and then said, “All done, Obi-Wan. Done with bath time. All done!”

Jinn removed Obi-Wan from the bath more quickly than he had put him in, and immediately swaddled him in a ridiculously fluffy white towel.

Obi-Wan barely had time to feel cold.

He plopped the bundled baby on the towel he had been kneeling on and leaned over to drain the tub.

When he looked down at Obi-Wan, his heart melted just a little.

Okay, a lot.

It melted a lot. 

Obi-Wan looked tiny in his giant fluffy white towel, with his feet poking out the bottom and his face out the top, both a little pink from the warmth. His copper-blonde hair was floofed out like duck feathers over his forehead, sparkling with droplets, and his eyes looked even bluer in contrast with all the white and pink. He was popping his lips again, staring up at Qui-Gon trustingly.

“Hey there, little imp,” Qui-Gon said, scooping up the swaddled baby and cradling him close to his chest, smiling uncontrollably as he felt Obi-Wan try to cling to him from inside his bundled towel. He rubbed Obi’s back gently and swayed with him, wondering _why_ in all the galaxy he had never bothered to spend more time with the crèche babies, wondering why he had ever considered _not_ taking Obi-Wan under his wing.

The child smelled of baby scent and fresh soap, and he buried his damp little head against Qui-Gon’s shoulder, yawning and apparently tuckered out from all the excitement of his first bath.

Qui-Gon didn’t move.

He knew it was nearly time to settle Obi-Wan to bed, but it was warm and light here, and he didn’t want to leave.

He swayed a little slower, and held his ward a little tighter.

“Baass…” the baby sighed against his neck. “Deee…”

“Mm-hmm,” Qui-Gon rumbled.

He closed his eyes and tilted his head to rest against Obi-Wan’s.

“Qui-Gon Jinn, what in Sith hells is going on in here?” a voice cracked out like a whip.

Obi-Wan’s head popped up; Qui-Gon twitched, the only outward sign of his astonishment.

“Your quarters are a _disaster_. There’s paint everywhere. Where in the name of sanity is all your furniture? There are tiny handprints all over the place!” the stern voice continued. “What did you do, steal a crècheling?”

Qui-Gon emerged from the fresher and found himself face to face with an imposing man with black hair shot with silver, clothed in black and a sweeping cape, and eyeing the rooms at large with glittering dark eyes.

The intruder spotted him and froze. His eyes moved from the paintings he was standing in the midst of, to Qui-Gon’s face, to the fluffy white towel clutched protectively in his arms and the pink little face peeping out from it.

“Luh-luh,” yawned Obi-Wan.

“… _What_.” said Dooku.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still accepting prompts! You all are keeping this fluffy little tale going. <3


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dooku reacts, baths are a favorite...  
> And we get a peek inside the perspective of baby Obi-Wan, getting into mischief...

Qui-Gon held Obi-Wan closely and stared dumbfounded at their unexpected visitor.

Dooku recovered more quickly. Eyebrows drawing together sharply, he eyed the sleepy baby, taking in the way he clung to Qui-Gon and Qui-Gon to him, and the obvious connection to the disaster in the common area.

The older Master pinched the bridge of his nose. “Tell me,” he said in his aristocratic accent, “that you did not _procreate_.”

Qui-Gon jolted. “What? No!”

Dooku shot him a look. “Well, that’s a relief, I suppose. I don’t think the galaxy can handle two Jinns. But now I still have many questions.”

“Buh-low-bleeeee…” Obi-Wan hummed. The baby squirmed inside his towel, and Qui-Gon adjusted his hold on him a little and resumed rubbing his back in soothing circles. Obi-Wan settled.

“I…” Qui-Gon floundered for words. “It’s… somewhat of a long story. But he needs to sleep.”

“Then lay him down and tell me the story,” his former Master said.

Qui-Gon shook his head. “He can’t sleep alone.” Dooku’s expression turned extremely dubious, but Qui-Gon cut off his argument before he could begin. “I can explain that, too, it’s all… just… let me get him changed into his pajamas and then…he can sleep in my arms or next to me on the sofa while we talk.”

Jinn looked around uncertainly, feeling a bit overwhelmed.

He needed to get Obi-Wan fully dry and then changed, but he also needed to tidy himself up, which he hadn’t yet done, and clear the art and tarps away so that the furniture could be moved back.

Frankly, even without a guest waiting on him, it all sounded exhausting. He berated himself for his lack of forethought.

“Here,” said Dooku unexpectedly. “Give me the child, and go clean yourself up. You’re an utter mess.”

Qui-Gon stared at him, gobsmacked.

Dooku simply stepped closer and held out his arms, looking completely calm, if a little impatient. “Go on, then.”

Qui-Gon looked down at Obi-Wan, who was watching the older Master with bleary-eyed interest; he knew that if he handed Obi-Wan to Dooku, the baby wouldn’t fuss – he was, by this point, completely trusting of anyone that Qui-Gon trusted.

Hesitantly, Qui-Gon eased his hold on the bundled-up baby and passed him along to his venerable former Master.

Dooku sat Obi-Wan on his hip and wrinkled his nose as drops of water fell from the floofed-up hair and onto his pristine tabards. “I’ll put him in his nightclothes. Where are they?”

Stunned, Qui-Gon gestured silently to the baby’s room, and without another word Dooku marched off, an intimidating figure in his black and grey and flowing cape, a cottonball of towel-wrapped baby perched in his arms.

Obi-Wan babbled curiously at him as they vanished, and Qui-Gon heard Dooku reply, “Yes, yes, but less talking, more getting ready for bed.”

“ _Bah-la-la_.”

The door closed behind them.

Qui-Gon was left to wander dazedly back into his own room.

***

Qui-Gon opened his bedroom door cautiously.

The tarps had been folded and placed in a corner, and the still-wet canvases had been stacked on the kitchen counter.

The furniture had all been replaced.

Dooku was sitting on the sofa, as leisurely and refined as he ever looked, ankles crossed, with a freshly toweled and pajama-clad baby on his lap. Obi-Wan was examining the line of decorative stitching down the front of his clothes, running down over his tummy and then dividing to run down both his legs.

“Pftfubleeee,” he said, making a raspberry with his mouth.

“Hmm?” Dooku asked, looking down at him.

Obi moved on from the shiny decorative line to the rest of the outfit, which was soft to the touch and colored a muted forest green. In contrast, his hair looked like fire. “Flfub-flee,” Obi-Wan chirped. “Gwee.”

“Mmm,” snorted Dooku. “Get back to me when your elocution improves.”

“Blee?” Obi-Wan asked.

Dooku looked thoughtful. “Hmm. I’m not sure what you’re asking me, so I’m going to go ahead and say _no_.”

Obi frowned up at him, throwing his head all the way backwards to do so.

Dooku looked back down at him.

After a long moment, Obi-Wan whispered, “Swwee-fy.”

“That I understood,” said Dooku, and his voice was oddly gentle. “Come here, little one. Sleep time. Qui-Gon will be along in a moment, I’m sure…” He shifted Obi-Wan from his lap to his chest, cradling the boy’s head against his shoulder.

Obi-Wan sighed.

He did not fall asleep – not yet, not without Qui-Gon there beside him – but he blinked slowly and rubbed his cheek into the crisp fabric, looking content. Dooku leaned his head against Obi-Wan’s, and mimicking Qui-Gon’s methods, began rubbing slow circles up the child’s back.

Dooku closed his eyes.

Obi-Wan began to relax.

Then he spotted his guardian, watching them, and cried, “Swee-fy! Dee!”

Dooku looked – for the first time in Qui-Gon’s memory – had a flush of embarrassment across his cheeks as he jerked his head around to stare at his former apprentice, caught in the act.

He did not, however, stop rubbing the baby’s back for even a second.

Qui-Gon grinned.

* * *

“Baas.”

A gentle poke to the nose.

“Baas.”

Qui-Gon opened his eyes blearily when a small hand patted his cheek.

Obi-Wan’s face was a small moon in the darkness, only two inches from his own. The child’s eyes brightened when he saw Qui-Gon’s open, and a tiny smile glinted. “Luh-luh,” Obi-Wan whispered happily. “Baas?”

Qui-Gon’s brow wrinkled in confusion. “…Bath?” he yawned.

“Baas!” Obi-Wan agreed victoriously. Two little feet kicked excitedly against Qui-Gon’s stomach, resting as they always were against him as if to make sure he was there, every night.

“No, no, Obi,” Qui-Gon mumbled. “Not bath time. Baths are for before bed.”

Obi-Wan made a noise of distress.

Qui-Gon’s eyes fluttered as sleep tried to reclaim him; he scooted a little closer to the child and wrapped an arm more firmly around Obi-Wan, stroking the back of his head. The child wriggled unhappily for a moment.

“Shhhh, little heart,” Qui-Gon murmured, almost asleep again. “Time for sleep.”

“Dee,” whispered Obi-Wan.

And then they were both asleep again.

* * *

Obi-Wan wasn’t interested in Tahl, Qui-Gon, and Dooku’s discussion.

Their very _long_ discussion.

They’d been talking and talking for ages, sometimes very animatedly, and sometimes very boring.

But they’d stopped paying close attention to Obi ages ago.

That didn’t bother Obi-Wan, much; he liked playing by himself and exploring the quarters, and chewing on his nice colorful-cool-chewy rings that made his mouth feel better. He liked quiet, and watching the pretty-changing-swirly colors that other people made when he looked close enough.

And they had feelings coming off them too.

Some of them made Obi-Wan warm.

Some not so much.

Right now, all three of the talking grown-ups were flashing with all sorts of things, many of them too-red-hot-angry or too-grey-cold-stressed. Their voices grew sharper, then softer, then sharper again.

Obi-Wan crawled to Qui-Gon first, pressing himself against the man’s legs as he sat beside Tahl and talked-sharp-soft with Dooku. When Qui-Gon felt him there, he reached down and absently but affectionately brushed his big fingers through Obi-Wan’s hair.

But then Obi got upset again, as the voices got quieter but the tones harder, and so he wedged himself between Qui-Gon’s feet and hid himself in the man’s enormous cloak, hidden from the world. He clung to Jinn’s trouser leg and hid his face. It was warm in here, and dark and safe.

But then, as Qui-Gon shifted in his seat, his cloak moved a little, and through the gap Obi-Wan spotted something.

Something very, very interesting.

He crawled out from the cloak and began to toddle.

***

“Enough, enough,” Tahl cried at last, setting down her half-empty mug of very cold tea. “We’ve been at this for over an hour!”

“Have we?” said Dooku. “How time does fly when one is pointing out perfectly obvious flaws in our Republic.”

“Obvious to _you_ , Master,” Qui-Gon sighed.

“How is it that we agree on the flaws of the Council, but not the Senate?” Dooku demanded.

Qui-Gon opened his mouth to respond, but Dooku slashed a hand through the air impatiently. “Never mind, never mind, Tahl is right. The first day all three of us have available and we spend it in intense discussion that pleases nobody.”

“Fancy way of saying ‘arguing until we all have headaches,’” Qui-Gon sighed. “And a waste of lovely tea.” He pouted down at his stone-cold teacup with great disappointment. He set it down on the table and stretched, looking around for Obi-Wan as he did.

And then he spotted something.

Something very, very alarming.

Obi-Wan’s toy rings, abandoned on the floor, halfway between where the Jedi were seated and the door to the hall.

The _wide open door._

Qui-Gon leapt to his feet. “Obi-Wan!”


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Obi-Wan is on the loose!  
> But not for long, not on the overprotective family's watch.

Three full-grown Jedi Knights – two of them Masters by rank – went tumbling out a doorway one on top of the other, looking around wildly.

The hallway was empty in both directions.

But it was a very long hallway, curving gently out of sight to both left and right. Directly in front of them was a wall of entirely windows, looking out on Coruscant, but the wall the apartment was set into was lined with scores of other apartments, not to mention other hallways branching off.

“How long has he been gone?” Tahl said, her voice firmly calm. “How far can he have gotten?”

“We checked all over the quarters,” Dooku said, sweeping away from the others to peer down the hall. “He’s not here, and he’s not within sight. The last time I recall seeing him… half an hour ago? Twenty minutes?”

“I – I can sense him,” said Qui-Gon. “Through the bond. It’s – hazy. He’s distracted. He’s… not far? I think.” He ran a hand through his long hair and exhaled shakily, still picturing the wide-open door and cursing himself for his lack of attention.

“Calm down, Qui-Gon,” Tahl told him, laying a hand gently on his arm. “It’s the Temple. He can’t be far and he can’t be in harm’s way. It’s going to be fine. Children wander sometimes.”

“That they do,” Dooku agreed. “He’s hardly the first crècheling to go exploring.”

“But I—” Qui-Gon stopped.

He took a deep breath, and centered himself.

Searching along the bond.

And he found that Vokara Che was right – it was _strong_ , stunningly so for something that had not been formed deliberately. Deep rooted as a tree that had stood for centuries, but still fragile above the soil, a riot of flowers easily torn away.

But they wouldn’t be, because Tahl was right, and Dooku was right, and he really, really, _really_ needed to calm the hell down.

“Okay,” he said more steadily. “Master, could you take the west wing of the hall, and Tahl, the east? I’m going to meditate here, see if I can’t find him that way.”

It wasn’t his instinct. His instinct was to go tearing down the hall like a madman, yelling for his ward until he found him, bundled him up in his blanket, and made sure he wasn’t falling down the stairs, or crawling between balcony railings, or – Qui-Gon stopped himself.

By then, Dooku and Tahl had each strode off down the hallways, glancing through open doors and knocking on closed ones, focusing in the Force.

Qui-Gon knelt down, closed his eyes, and sank into the embrace of the Living Force.

The spontaneous Force-forged bond he shared with Obi was so bright. It burned like starlight, a link between himself and a tiny, mischievous child – it danced happily with Obi-Wan’s emotions. He couldn’t be far, not with how easy it was to sense him this way, and wherever he was he was feeling _curious-excited-surprised._ Nothing bad.

/ _Obi-Wan_ ,/ Qui-Gon called, very quietly, trying not to startle the baby with a voice inside his head.

No response.

/ _Obi… Obi-Wan…?_ /

A swirl of _delight-excitement-hello-hello-hello-warmth-happy!_ burst down the other end of the bond.

Qui-Gon grinned. / _Hello there_ ,/ he answered. / _Where did you go? Show me. Can you reach for me?_ / He demonstrated, reaching for Obi-Wan down the bond, flaring his presence in the Force like a light. / _Reach, Obi-Wan. Come here._ /

There was a pause, and then Obi-Wan _reached_ back.

There!

Qui-Gon opened his eyes and got to his feet, still clinging to the bond inside his mind, following Obi-Wan’s eager tugging. He raced down the eastern hall, bypassing Tahl as she emerged from a side room. She followed him without question.

They ran to the nearest turbolift and waited for it to open, and then rode it down three levels to another section of the residential wing. More apartments lined the walls, these ones smaller – single-person, made for independent Knights. This should be a wing devoid of younglings, but…

A child was babbling nearby, the voice coming from an open doorway.

Before Qui-Gon even rounded the corner, the high-pitched, sweet little voice piped up, “Dee! _Bu-bah-buh_ , buh! Dee!”

Qui-Gon stepped through the door, and his eyes locked first on Obi-Wan, a wriggling bundle of pale tunic, trousers, soft socks, and a shock of ginger-blonde hair, held in someone else's arms and reaching for him with both hands. “Bleee!” he cried cheerfully, “ _Bah!_ Bah! Up!”

Qui-Gon rushed towards him and held out his arms, and Obi-Wan was deposited into them by the Knight who had been holding him—

“And all’s well that ends well,” said Kit Fisto, grinning at him. “He wandered down here on his own, so I figured keeping him until you showed up would be best.”

“ _Thank_ you,” Qui-Gon sighed, sincerely.

He examined the child carefully, looking for bruises or signs of distress; finding none, he held Obi-Wan tightly, ignoring the child’s squirming and little peeps of protest.

“Hi Kit,” said Tahl. “Thanks for catching our escape artist. He got bored of us hashing out politics with Dooku, which is understandable.” She smiled at Obi-Wan, who babbled her name excitedly and leaned into her touch when she rubbed his cheek. The fierce Jedi melted as she always did and held out her arms, but Qui-Gon refused to let go of Obi-Wan. 

“Dee, bahhh!” Obi complained.

“Hush, you,” Qui-Gon said, shifting the child to rest his head against his shoulder and swaying. “You’re not leaving me.”

Obi pouted.

But he surrendered quickly, nuzzling his face into the fabric of Qui-Gon’s tunics and humming contentedly to himself while the three adults talked.

By the time they finished and left Kit Fisto’s quarters, Obi-Wan Kenobi was dozing with his cheek pressed against his guardian’s shoulder, one chubby hand gripping the neckline of the man’s tunics. Qui-Gon tilted his head so that his cheek rested on top of the child’s head, and tried to tell himself that he was not an enormous, overprotective softy.

“Nope,” said Tahl, interpreting his expression perfectly. “You’re a _goner_ , Qui.”

Qui-Gon harrumphed and cuddled his baby closer.

* * *

Obi-Wan tugged on the edge of a chair seat, bouncing on his toes.

“Up up up?” he asked brightly.

“Not yet,” said Qui-Gon.

Obi-Wan’s mouth popped open in surprise. Qui-Gon never _didn’t_ pick him up! This was confusing.

What did it mean? Obi pondered this for a few moments while the tall Jedi continued whatever he was doing on the counter above him.

“Deeeee…” he hummed, bouncing again.

“Not quite yet, Obi,” Qui-Gon said. He was still totally absorbed in whatever he was up to; he was moving things around, touching things, leaning down sometimes to grab things from the cupboards. He lifted some sort of bag in the air, considered it, and then put it down again.

“Moh…” Obi-Wan said sadly.

He pinned Qui-Gon with his biggest, saddest eyes.

Qui-Gon merely chuckled. “Those are effective. But hang on just a moment, little one! Almost ready!”

Obi perked up at the man’s cheery tone.

A few seconds later, Qui-Gon stooped and held out his arms in offering. Obi-Wan toddled into them trustingly and was swept into the air as the Jedi stood up to his full height again. He pointed a large hand at the countertop, which was filled up with a line of strange bags and containers of various sizes, bowls, and cups.

“Dee?” Obi-Wan asked, curious.

Qui-Gon smiled at him, leaning in briefly to brush their noses together, making Obi-Wan giggle.

“We,” said the Jedi, “are going to bake cookies!”


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> COOKIES

“Mooosh!” Obi-Wan said delightedly. His small hands were squishing a mound of dough over and over again. “Moosh moosh. Duh-duh!”

Qui-Gon smiled down at the child, perched in his high seat. Obi smiled back up at him when he noticed the man watching. “ _Moosh_ ,” he chirped.

“Well, yes,” Qui-Gon said, amused.

They had made the dough together, Obi-Wan perched on his hip and watching with eager interest as the Jedi mixed eggs and vanilla, flour and salt, brown sugar and white sugar. A dash of cinnamon that puffed into the air and made Obi-Wan sneeze and Qui-Gon laugh. Dark chocolate chips that melted easily, stirred and folded into the fluffy, sticky dough with one of Obi’s hands and one of Qui-Gon’s sharing the spoon, working together.

But Obi-Wan had wanted to play with it, so Qui-Gon had spooned a handful – for a hand his size, that was – and put it on the tray, plopping the child in his seat to play with it while he actually scooped the cookie dough into giant balls and set them on trays.

“Moosh!” Obi-Wan said again.

“But what about baking and eating?” Qui-Gon questioned.

Obi-Wan flexed one cookie-dough coated hand, watching it curiously, and then hesitantly brought it to his mouth and licked his thumb.

His blue-green eyes lit up. “Mmmm!”

Qui-Gon laughed. “Yummy? Do you like cookie dough?”

“Duh-duh!” Obi-Wan said, popping the rest of his fingers into his mouth. _“Mmm!”_

“Well, watch what we do with these,” Qui-Gon told him, scooping him back up and holding him safely in one arm and lifting a baking sheet with the other. “Ready? We’re going to put them in the oven to bake.”

He opened the door with a frivolous use of the Force.

The heat billowed out, and Qui-Gon shifted, shielding Obi-Wan from the heat that struck up.

Then he slid the baking pan onto the rack, closing the door slowly so the baby could watch with round eyes as the cookies were left to bake.

“Dee?” Obi-Wan questioned, sad to see yummy dough put away.

“Baking cookies, Obi,” Qui-Gon soothed. “They’re not all meant to be licked off of fingers, you know,” he teased, booping him on the nose.

“Duh-doh-doh,” the ginger babbled. “Duh-doh-doh-doh- _deeeeee_.”

“Mm-hmm,” Qui-Gon murmured, pressing a kiss to the soft forehead. “All right. Help me pick – what kind of sprinkles?” He walked them over to a small basket full of shakers of sprinkles and food coloring, holding one up for Obi to inspect. This one was full of star-shaped sprinkles in shades of white and gold.

“What in the name of the _Force_ is happening here?”

Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan looked up at the same time, surprised.

“Fffffeeeee!” Obi-Wan yelped, bouncing on Qui-Gon’s hip. “Fffeeee!”

“Hey, short stack,” said Feemor, strolling into the kitchen and holding out his arms so Qui-Gon could hand Obi-Wan over – albeit reluctantly. Obi put one arm over Feemor’s chest and another around his back in a clumsy imitation of a hug, and Feemor practically glowed with pleasure.

“We’re baking cookies,” Qui-Gon informed him. “Would you like to join us?”

“With pleasure,” his former apprentice said gladly. “What can I do?”

“We’re picking our toppings.”

Feemor’s green eyes settled on the next sheet of prepared cookie dough balls. “But, Qui-Gon, those are chocolate chip cookies.”

“Coook-kie,” Obi-Wan repeated with surprising clarity.

“Yep,” Feemor agreed.

“So?” asked the Jedi Master, looking bewildered. “What’s the issue?”

“You don’t _decorate_ chocolate chip cookies!”

“What? That’s ridiculous!” Qui-Gon exclaimed. “Of course you do, they’re _cookies!”_

“No,” insisted Feemor. “You don’t. The chocolate chips are a filling and a topping. You decorate plain, flat-ish cookies! Not chocolate chip!”

“Yes you do!”

“No you don’t!”

“Yes you do!”

“No you don’t!”

“Do!”

“Don’t!”

"DO!"

"DON'T!"

They glowered at each other, only half serious, but clearly unwilling to surrender.

They did, however, agree on the obvious solution: “Tahl,” they suggested in unison.

***

Tahl held Obi-Wan on her hip as she opened the door.

“Hi,” she said to Dooku.

He greeted her calmly, sent Obi-Wan a small smile, and then looked over their shoulders to the scene in the kitchen.

Qui-Gon and Feemor were standing over two sheets of freshly baked cookies, exclaiming loudly and gesticulating wildly, completely ignoring the unbaked dough sitting abandoned in the bowl. Qui-Gon had flour on his face and Feemor had a dash of red frosting on his nose, no doubt put there by his former Master.

“Stop squalling and start explaining,” Dooku demanded, brushing past Tahl and lifting Obi out of her arms as she did.

She pouted and trailed after him, her arms folded. Obi grinned up at Dooku and reached up to pat the elder man’s cheek, which made his lips twitch. “Da-doo,” the child sang.

“Hush,” Dooku said, not unkindly.

“ _Who_ hush?” asked Feemor. “Me? Qui-Gon? Obi-Wan?”

“All of the above, you’ll speak when I ask you to,” the imperious Master instructed. “Feemor, you start. What is going on here?”

“Cookie baking,” the young Knight said promptly. “Qui-Gon wanted to bake with Obi-Wan, and when I arrived he decided it was _okay_ to put frosting and sprinkles on chocolate chip cookies!”

Qui-Gon scowled. “They’re cookies! All cookies can be improved!”

“Not like this!” wailed Feemor.

“They’re cookies, Feemor!” Qui-Gon shouted. “They’re meant to be sugary and delicious! Stop ruining my fun!”

They started bickering again.

Dooku looked at Tahl, rubbing Obi-Wan’s back methodically as he eyed her. “How long have they been like this?”

“Almost half an hour,” she sighed. “I should have called you sooner.”

“Doh,” Obi-Wan said, making grabby motions at the bowl of cookie dough. “Doh doh doh, beeaash.”

“Did you just say _please?”_ Tahl cooed, ruffling his wispy red hair. “Did you say ‘cookie dough please?’”

“Doh-doh beash,” Obi-Wan babbled. “Beeeassshhh, beeaaaaashhhh, doh, beash, Tah!”

“Dooku, let me take him and feed him cookie dough,” Tahl pleaded. She held out her arms and gave her friend’s former Master her most winning smile.

He sighed. “Oh, very well, but don’t over-indulge him.”

“Oh, _never_ ,” she said dramatically, cuddling Obi-Wan and rushing to the table with him.

Dooku walked around the counter. Qui-Gon and Feemor, each of them waving a cookie in the other’s face, didn’t notice him at all.

At least, not until he grabbed them both by the backs of their necks and bonked their foreheads together.

**_“OW!”_ **

Obi-Wan shrieked with laughter as Feemor and Qui-Gon reeled, clutching their heads.

“What the stars was that?!” Feemor cried.

“A last resort,” Dooku snapped. “For goodness sakes, you’ve been wasting time on this for how long now? And then you called Tahl and tried to dump it on her? Shut up, tidy up, and get back to baking and proper parenting!”

He plucked a cookie from one of Feemor’s pans and added, “And for pity’s sake, Qui-Gon, no one in their right mind would frost a chocolate chip cookie. Get a grip.”

Dooku left his Lineage to deal with the fallout, snagging a warm cookie to share with the baby as he went.

***

“Luh-luh,” piped a tiny voice, and Obi-Wan Kenobi tumbled head over heels directly into Mace Windu’s apartments.

“Um,” said the Councilor. “Hello?”

“Luh!” Obi repeated. He grabbed onto the hem of Mace’s long brown robes and tried to stand, but when he stumbled Mace bent down and picked him up.

“Greetings, youngling,” he said, smiling a little when Obi-Wan beamed at him. “What brings you here?”

“A delivery,” answered Qui-Gon, stepping over the threshold. “Obi-Wan picked you specifically, and you’re one of only a handful, mind you. It’s quite an honor.”

“Picked me?” Mace said, bemused. “For what?”

In answer, the maverick Master held out a small plastic-wrapped tray bearing a good two-dozen chocolate chip cookies.

“We baked,” he said cheerfully. “Obi helped, and he’s been hand-picking the recipients. You were choice number… well, either four or one, depending on your point of view.”

“One,” said Mace, snuggling Obi-Wan with one arm and taking the tray with the other. “Number one.”

Qui-Gon laughed. “Fair enough.”

There was a long pause.

“Mace.”

“Yes?”

“You have to give Obi back to me.”

“…”

“Mace…”

“I’m pretty sure I can pull rank and keep him.”

_“MACE!”_


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Feemor is a mischevious older bro, Obi-Wan is everyone's favorite, bath time again, and an adventure with Grandpa and Grandma. <3

Feemor grinned wickedly.

He had his back pressed against the wall, listening through an open doorway to Master Koon, a Kel Dor, and Master Tyvokka, a Wookie Councilor, in the middle of a heated debate.

Or rather, haggling.

“Fine. Eight,” said Koon.

“No,” growled Tyvokka in his native, rumbling language. “Ten or no deal.”

“Ten!” Plo exclaimed. “I only had fifteen to begin with, and three are already gone!”

“Ten.”

“I won’t go higher than eight.”

“Then you can’t have my two hour babysitting rotation,” Tyvokka howled smugly. “Two hours with Obi-Wan equals ten cookies, and that’s me being generous.”

“But Obi-Wan gave me these cookies!” Koon protested.

“Exactly. I didn’t get any,” Tyvokka said, sounding wounded. “If you want to steal my turn babysitting him, you have to give up the cookies.”

Plo growled, rivalling his fellow Master for fierceness.

“…Six cookies, and I take _one_ of your two hours.”

“Done.”

Feemor smirked, looking down at the sleepy but bright-eyed child he had just stolen from the crib while the two Masters negotiated. “Let’s go before they figure us out,” Feemor whispered.

Obi smiled and snuggled him.

The two mischevious friends were long gone by the time Tyvokka had stopped complaining about the frosting in his fur (“Who in the galaxy frosts chocolate chip cookies?!” “Qui-Gon Jinn.” “Make sense.”) long enough for Plo Koon to discover the empty cradle.

“WHO TOOK THE BABY?”

Depa Billaba, Yaddle, Micah Giiett, and Tahl Uvain all appeared as if by instant teleportation and immediately joined Plo and Tyvokka on a quest for rescue and vengeance.

*******

Vokara Che was not a Council Master.

She rarely used her lightsaber. In fact, she hardly ever carried it.

But her glare was enough to cow the entire Jedi Order, and in that moment it was enough to silence Depa, Yaddle, Micah, Tahl, Plo, Tyvokka, Qui-Gon, and Feemor – even with a tiny ginger-haired child sitting on her hip, chewing on a teething ring and drooling happily on her shoulder.

“ _What_ ,” she enunciated, “were you fools thinking?”

“Feemor kidnapped Obi,” Qui-Gon and Tahl said in unison.

“It was my turn to watch him—” Tyvokka started.

“I won the right to babysit him, but Feemor—” Koon began.

“They called for help, and I—” Depa said with great dignity.

“Obi-Wan was missing!” protested Micah.

“Too popular, is that baby,” said Yaddle. “Too much fun, it was, to chase down Feemor. Carried away, we were.”

“You hit Feemor with your _lightsabers_!” Che barked. “ _Low power_ or not, I have now _wasted_ half a tub of bacta ointment on a Knight who pulled a prank!”

“Wasted?” Feemor pouted, the gel-covered, mildly pink burns on his arms glistening in the light.

Qui-Gon shot him a look, and his former Padawan grinned.

“We did get carried away,” admitted Plo Koon. “It was in jest, and it wouldn’t have been so bad if only one of us had done it.”

“I forgive you all,” Feemor said cheerfully. “I think I’m owed extra babysitting hours in exchange though—”

“No,” said Vokara. “All of you are banned from babysitting for a week. Masters Yoda, Windu, Nu, Dooku, and I will divide your extra shifts between us. Starting with me. Come on, Obi, let’s go study viral infections.”

She toted him away.

“Vokara!” Qui-Gon whined.

* * *

“Baaas.”

“Yes, I know, little one.”

“Baaaas.”

“Yes, just a minute.”

Obi-Wan toddled over to Qui-Gon and latched onto his robes, fixing the Master with his usual, irresistible fathier-baby eyes. “Deeee, baaaaaaas…. _Peeash?”_

Qui-Gon’s smile turned a little gooey, but he continued working on the acquisitions form he had been procrastinating on all week. “Baths in a minute, Obi. Patience.”

“Yus,” Obi-Wan sighed, plopping down on his bottom, his fingers still clinging to the robes.

Qui-Gon tried not to laugh as he felt Obi-Wan slowly give up being impatient and instead bury his face in the Jedi’s long robes, nuzzling his nose in the well-worn fabric. Something about it always seemed to soothe him, and Qui-Gon wasn’t about to take that away – even if it did mean getting drool on his robes every day.

After a few minutes, he was finished, and he sent the completed form off and tossed the pad aside.

“Obeeee,” he said, reaching down and putting his hands on either side of the child.

Obi-Wan didn’t budge.

“ _Obeeee_ … time for baths!”

Obi tilted his head back, emerging from the fabric with a confused expression and rapidly blinking eyes. The Jedi laughed. “Did you start to fall asleep in there, little one?”

“Baaas…” Obi-Wan murmured sleepily. “Baas?” His voice went upwards with delighted recognition.

“Baths,” Qui-Gon confirmed. “Let’s walk to baths, okay? Hold my hands. Come along!”

He set the toddler on his small feet and stood behind him, letting Obi-Wan cling to his fingers for support like he always did. Obi-Wan took careful, determined steps, watching his feet and glancing up at the fresher door every few seconds to make sure he was still on track.

Doing this always made Qui-Gon’s back and neck ache horribly.

But it was too much fun to give up.

They reached their goal after a minute or two, and Qui-Gon cheered as he let Obi-Wan sit himself down on the towel. “Good job! Well done, Obi-Wan.”

Obi-Wan grabbed at his toes and rocked back and forth, grinning. “A-deee,” he sang.

Qui-Gon drew up a bath and settled the basket inside, keeping an eye on his charge and his inane humming as he did.

As usual, Obi-Wan was perfectly content and at his ease, trusting Qui-Gon to take care of everything else – but ever since the incident with the miraculously opened door and the escape to Kit Fisto’s apartments, all of Obi-Wan’s babysitters were a little more watchful.

Qui-Gon waited until he had finished washing all the bubbles out of the child’s hair before he offered up a surprise.

“Look, Obi-Wan,” he said. “I have a gift for you. Would you like to see?”

The ginger-haired baby blinked at him, not understanding. Two chubby hands splished about in the water, catching vainly at random clusters of bubbles. Qui-Gon picked a small item out of his pocket and held it out on his palm for the child to see.

It was a toy sailing boat, only a few inches long, just a bit too big for Obi-Wan to fit into his mouth. The plastic was brightly colored in shades of green and blue, and the plastic sail was a sparkly white. Obi-Wan’s eyes fixed on it in wonder.

Qui-Gon held it out patiently.

“Dee?” Obi-Wan asked.

“It’s for you,” Qui-Gon said. “For _Obi_. It’s a toy. Watch this.”

He set the little boat down on the water and slowly released it. It bobbed up and down for a few seconds, then began to hum quietly and mill itself about in little circles, trailing ripples in its wake. Obi-Wan sat absolutely still, watching it go. He barely seemed to breathe, his eyes huge.

Eventually, the little boat bumped into one of Obi-Wan’s hands and stuttered to a halt.

Obi-Wan gasped.

“It’s okay,” Qui-Gon assured him. “It’s not broken. It just stopped. See? Here.” He gently picked up one of Obi’s hands and guided it with his own, pushing it towards the boat. Obi-Wan closed his fingers around it hesitantly.

The boat chugged to life in his hands and started circling again.

Obi-Wan smiled, making little peeping noises every time it brushed too close to him.

“It’s called a boat. _Boat_ ,” Qui-Gon told the child quietly. “Toy boat. Boat.”

 _“Boh,”_ said Obi-Wan reverently. “Boh, go go go!”

Qui-Gon chuckled, surprised. “It does go! Look at it go.”

Obi-Wan picked the toy out of the water and held it amusingly close to his face, studying it, watching a bubble glide along the bow and then pop. “Boh,” he repeated. He put it back down and watched it spiral around, breathing quickly with excitement and smiling every time it passed him by.

Qui-Gon’s hands were beginning to prune, and he was sure Obi-Wan would follow any second now, but for the moment he was content to just lean against the side of the tub, one hand on Obi-Wan’s back, keeping him safe, and watching serenely as the child giggled and splashed.

* * *

“Master,” Qui-Gon said warningly. “Two hours. No more, no less.”

“I know how to keep time, unlike a few unruly apprentices of mine,” Dooku said airily. “You’ll have him back in two hours. Off you go. We’re going to explore the Archives, it will be perfectly safe and educational.”

“Educational?” scoffed the long-haired Jedi. “He’s barely a year old!”

“ _Do_ we know how old he is, exactly?” Dooku inquired, curious. He held Obi-Wan on his hip, ignoring the child’s attempts to wriggle away and explore the floor on his own. “I thought it was undetermined.”

“Master Che estimated when we brought him in that he was around twelve months,” Qui-Gon said. “Now that his health has improved, she thinks he have actually been around ten or eleven months, making him around a year old _now_.”

“Interesting,” said Dooku. “He’s baseline human?”

“Not quite. Many of the Stewjoni have the blood of an ancient avian race in them. Obi-Wan will be longer lived than the average human, and he has keener eyesight, I think.”

“You think? You haven’t bothered to check into it?”

“Why?” Qui-Gon frowned. “He’s perfectly healthy and happy.”

Dooku scoffed. “Your guardian is a fool,” he told Obi-Wan, who babbled back at him. “Let’s go.” The older Master turned cleanly on one heel and marched away, leaving an indignant Qui-Gon to head off to teach Ataru to a group of initiates with a taste for saber combat.

*******

“Young Kenobi!” Jocasta Nu swept in in a blur of silver and plum robes and dark brown hair liberally streaked with early silver, and pulled Obi-Wan from Dooku’s arms into her own.

“Jocasta,” Dooku complained.

“You have enough time with him, attached as you are to your lineage,” she sniffed quietly. “It’s my turn. And these are _my_ Archives. Come along, Kenobi, let’s explore together.”

“Luh-luh, go!” Obi-Wan whispered, mirroring her own quiet tone instinctively.

“A clever one, aren’t you?” Nu smiled at him. “Yes, we must be very quiet in the Archives.” She walked primly away with him, heading toward the main desk.

There were two Padawans on duty – Klove Hessanka, an Archivist in the making, and young Xanatos DuCrion, recently apprenticed to Master Plo Koon.

“Good afternoon, Master Nu, Master Dooku,” said Hessanka respectfully, her furry Bothan features slightly intimidated by their appearance.

“Hello,” said DuCrion, who looked a bit bored.

Dooku eyed him dubiously but ignored the slight in favor of focusing on Jocasta’s conversation.

“-incoming transmissions from Dantooine,” she was saying when he tuned in to her words. “I assume you can handle all of that?”

“Certainly, Master,” the Padawan said. “I always have Padawan DuCrion should I need assistance.”

Dooku restrained a snort as Xanatos started, clearly jerked out of a period of idle daydreaming. Archive duty tended to have that effect on the easily distracted, or the undisciplined. Ah, well. DuCrion was young. He would learn.

“Should you really have a _youngling_ in here?” DuCrion said disrespectfully, eyeing Obi-Wan with open distaste.

Or maybe, thought Dooku, internally bristling, Xanatos was hopeless.

Or maybe Dooku was an overprotective softy. He sighed at himself.

Obi-Wan Kenobi, _honestly_.

The baby was wiggling in Jocasta’s arms, reaching in vain for a shiny holobook on a nearby shelf.

“I believe that’s for me to decide, Padawan,” Jocasta said pointedly.

Xanatos nodded, but his blue eyes narrowed in derision when Obi-Wan looked curiously around at him, his blue-green eyes friendly and inquisitive. When the older boy continued to frown at him, radiating _disapproval_ – and something even stronger – in the Force, Obi shifted uncomfortably and hid his face in Madame Nu’s shirt.

She didn’t notice the _cause_ of his distress, speaking again to Padawan Hessanka, but she rubbed the back of his head soothingly.

Dooku did notice, and his dark eyes fixed warningly on DuCrion.

Usually, the children of the Temple were beneath his notice.

But anyone who threatened the peaceful happiness of Obi-Wan Kenobi would earn Dooku’s attention in a way they wouldn’t like.

DuCrion cowed at the glare sent his way, and Dooku and Nu swept off with Obi-Wan between them, wandering into the depths of the infinite Archives.

*******

Jocasta was helping a Senior Padawan with research prep for their first solo mission, and Dooku and his young charge were left alone for a bit. Dooku had a sudden thought and carried Obi to a nearby terminal, setting the baby on his knees and bouncing him gently while the Master searched through the database.

“Yes, yes, let’s see… hmm…”

Obi-Wan attempted to chew on his tunic sleeve while Dooku researched.

He read for nearly fifteen minutes, and not once did the child fuss or cry, happy to wait.

Eventually, Dooku finished, and leaned back in his chair with a satisfied smirk. “Well, well, well. The things you can learn if you’re willing to put in the work, hm?” He looked down at the youngling on his lap. “There’s a _lot_ of information about Stewjon, did you know that?”

Obi-Wan grinned, still gnawing on his own sleeve.

“Yes, there is,” Dooku told him, chucking his chin gently and grimacing when drool got on his finger. “Gah. Well. I knew that Stewjon was plagued with superstitions, and prejudice against Force-sensitives. I knew where it is, and what its standing in the Republic is. But there were many things I did not know – and now I do.”

“Buh-buh- _blee_ ,” Obi-Wan mumbled around his soggy sleeve.

“Disgusting,” sighed Dooku. “Next time I shall remember to bring a teething toy. Our two hours are nearly up – let’s say goodbye to Master Nu and go home to Qui-Gon, now.”

Obi brightened at Qui-Gon’s name.

Dooku shook his head fondly and carried Obi-Wan up a few aisles to where Madame Nu was speaking with yet another Senior Padawan, coaching them through a more complex search system for the database. While they waited, Dooku set Obi-Wan down, letting him crawl and toddle about under his watchful eyes, letting him stretch his legs.

Obi-Wan explored carefully, mesmerized by the rows and rows of softly glowing devices, his blue eyes even bluer in their light.

He touched things very gently, but mostly, instinctively, kept his hands on the shelves and not the actual books.

He alternated between crawling and toddling. Dooku watched as the child went up and down the same aisle over and over, never straying too far.

Perhaps that was why he was so astonished when he glanced away for a moment to mouth a silent question at Jocasta and turned back to discover that Obi-Wan had vanished. Again.

 _“Force,”_ Dooku hissed.

He raced around the aisle, looking up the next one to the right and the next to the left.

No Obi-Wan.

He wasn’t two, or three, or four or five aisles down to the left.

Or the right.

Dooku turned back and plucked Madame Nu’s sleeve, pulling her away from her work. She frowned sharply at him, but he raised his eyebrows and whispered, “Obi-Wan’s wandered off again.”

Her blue eyes widened. “You go that way. I’ll go this way. Meet back in five minutes.”

Five minutes later, and they both returned empty-handed and noticeably stressed.

*******

Obi-Wan stared up at a huge statue.

It was hard to tell from his low vantage point, but it looked like a person-statue. The face was too high to see.

He stood up and tried to stretch taller to see, but overbalanced and fell.

His forehead bumped the base of the statue and he fell back on his rear, lips trembling.

But Obi wouldn’t cry.

Crying was _bad_.

Crying brought bad people.

Only _Qui-Gon_ could make bad people go away. Obi-Wan pondered this for a moment, his eyes welling with silent tears as he bit his lip, feeling his head ache.

Polished boots suddenly walked into view, all distorted by his tears.

Obi-Wan looked up and up and found the _angry-hurt-scowling-go-away-don’t-like_ boy from before staring down at him.

The angry boy had a strange expression on his face.

But he just kept staring at Obi as the child tried not to make a noise, his eyes shiny with tears and a bump forming on his head.

Then he said, “You shouldn’t be here.”

And Obi-Wan had a very bad feeling about this.

He tried very, very hard not to cry and reached-reached- _reached_ inside himself for that lit-up place where his _favorite_ person in the world lived, and _tugged_ on it urgently. _Help-help-go-help-dee-help—_

*******

Eight floors above, Qui-Gon Jinn stumbled in the middle of a kata, holstered his saber, and walked out the door with a worried frown, pausing long enough to grab Obi-Wan’s soft blanket from the bag he carried with him.

He had a feeling it was going to be needed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...So a few of you asked for a little more Baby-Wan whump.  
> And it occurred to me that not *everyone* would fall in love with Baby Obi...


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Qui-Gon rushes to Obi's aid, there is dancing, and the Council loves the baby.

Qui-Gon strode into the Archives and flung out his senses, searching for both Dooku and Obi-Wan.

His brow furrowed.

Dooku was somewhere deep in the Archives, moving about swiftly, his tightly shielded presence leaking faint traces of concern and intent.

Obi… wasn’t nearby at all.

And getting farther away.

Perhaps Dooku had entrusted the baby to someone unfamiliar? But why would he – he knew that strangers made Obi-Wan uncomfortable.

Qui-Gon hesitated.

Which signature to follow?

But that question was answered immediately. Obi-Wan was still _calling_ for him, pulling inexpertly on their bond, and he was _scared_. Qui-Gon marched back out of the Archives still clutching the soft, sky-dark blanket in his large hands, and chased after his ward.

His comm chimed.

“Dooku,” he said without even checking to see who was calling. “I’m following Obi-Wan’s signature on our bond. He’s moving deeper into the Temple, fast.”

“You can sense him?” Dooku asked, sounding relieved. “Thank the Force. Qui-Gon, I—”

“Later,” Qui-Gon said, almost growling.

He wasn’t angry at his former Master, not really – but he wouldn’t be truly _not_ angry until he had Obi-Wan back and figured out what in the hells had happened.

The towering Master’s long strides carried him rapidly through the Temple, following the sunshine-glow that was Obi-Wan Kenobi. It was moving quickly, too – supporting his theory that the child was being carried, not wandering off on his own.

His chest ached with a tight, unfamiliar fear as he felt Obi-Wan’s distress, the child’s presence in the Force diminishing as he shielded himself, clearly too scared to keep his mind open.

Weeks of emotional progress, and then this.

Qui-Gon hastened down a flight of stairs, clinging to the thin thread that was all that Obi was broadcasting anymore, burst through a doorway, and saw a figure at the end of the hall, their back to him, walking away at a rapid clip. And in their arms, wriggling unhappily but completely silent, was a child with a familiar shock of ginger-gold hair.

“Obi-Wan!” Qui-Gon called, knowing that the bond was too clouded right now for the child to sense him.

The ginger head looked up, and there was a _firework_ of _joy_ in the Force; two little hands reached for him over the unfamiliar shoulder.

The person holding Obi-Wan stopped. Turned slowly.

It was a familiar face. Qui-Gon was confused as he approached; he couldn’t decide whether to smile or frown as the pale, striking features of a boy he had _also_ brought to the Temple stared up at him with a strangely blank expression.

“Xanatos,” Qui-Gon said. “Padawan DuCrion. Congratulations on your apprenticeship; I heard about it through the grapevine.”

“Thank you, Master,” Xanatos said. He was still holding onto the baby, who was red-faced with recent misery, his cheeks pink and his eyes wide and shimmery with tears he wasn’t crying. His hands still reached for Qui-Gon despite the tight grip of DuCrion's arms.

Obi-Wan made a tiny, urgent sound.

Qui-Gon didn't hesitate; he plucked Obi out of DuCrion’s hands and held him close.

He pressed his lips to the back of Obi’s head, inhaling soft baby scent, rubbing his back soothingly. The blanket was pressed between Obi-Wan’s face and Qui-Gon’s chest, and the child hid in it, his little soft-soled shoes kicking in little bursts of distress even as his guardian cuddled him.

“Shhhh, hush now, it’s all right,” Qui-Gon murmured, feeling the fear in his chest slowly fade away only to be replaced with confusion and regret. “It’s all right, I’m sorry. I’m sorry you were upset, you’re safe here.”

He looked back up at Xanatos. The boy was standing very still, watching them with pale lips pressed together.

Qui-Gon grimaced as he saw the red bruise on Obi-Wan’s pale forehead. He tutted and gently ran his fingers over the mark, watching it begin to fade as gentle healing energies washed over it. After it vanished completely, he kissed the spot where it had been, thanking the Force that that was the only injury on the child.

He sighed and addressed Xanatos. “What happened?”

“He was lost, I think,” DuCrion said. “I looked, but I couldn’t find Master Dooku anywhere. Kenobi must have wandered off where he shouldn’t have been. I was returning him to the crèche.”

Qui-Gon shifted, adjusting the blanket so that part of it was tucked around Obi-Wan’s back, wrapping warmly around him. Obi’s small breaths were shaky against Qui-Gon’s neck.

“…Obi-Wan doesn’t live in the crèche,” he said slowly. “He lives with me.”

DuCrion looked blank for a second, then surprised. 

“Oh!” Xanatos said. “I’m _so_ sorry, that never even occurred to me. I’m glad you caught us in time.”

“Thank you for trying to help him,” Qui-Gon said sincerely. “Truly. I need to take him back home now, but I imagine I’ll see you around soon. It’s been awhile; we ought to catch up now that you’ve been accepted for training.”

Xanatos’ eyes lit up. “Absolutely! Thank you, Master.”

Qui-Gon smiled at him and walked away, still cradling Obi-Wan close to his chest, murmuring soft reassurances into his soft hair and trying to fill their bond with comfort-warmth-security-apology-peace.

He was so preoccupied with Obi, he didn’t notice the ugly look on DuCrion’s face as he watched them go... or the gleam of triumph in his bold blue eyes.

*******

“Qui-Gon, I don’t know how he got away. Truly. I was watching him so closely, and then—”

“It’s all right. He’s escaped from under our noses twice now,” Qui-Gon said, shaking his head in half-amusement, half-exasperation. “Obi-Wan is clearly just a natural escape artist.”

Dooku sighed, watching as the small child sat on Qui-Gon’s lap, chewing on a teething ring and humming to himself, much calmer and brighter in the Force than he had been an hour ago when Qui-Gon first commed Dooku to let him know they were safely back at their quarters.

“Who found him?” Dooku asked. “Why did they not return him to me?”

“It was young Xanatos,” Qui-Gon said. “He couldn’t find you, so he took Obi to the crèche. He didn’t know.”

Qui-Gon’s head was down, mopping up a bit of drool from Obi-Wan’s cheek with his sleeve, and he didn’t see the way his old Master stiffened slightly, dark eyes sharpening.

“Interesting,” was all Dooku said aloud.

Interesting, that Xanatos had been the one to find Obi-Wan.

Interesting, that he had somehow not found Dooku, even though he and Jocasta had combed the entire level from the lobby inwards.

Interesting, that DuCrion had apparently taken the child out one of the smaller side doors and tried to place him in the crèche.

Interesting indeed.

Dooku watched Obi-Wan play and tried to let go of his paranoid, Shadow tendencies.

*******

That night, Obi-Wan rolled all the way across the bed and hid himself against Qui-Gon’s chest, not sleeping until the Master put a strong, shielding arm across the child and held him.

* * *

Qui-Gon had been worried that Obi-Wan would suffer the next day, but the child all but bounced back. He was quieter in the Force, but not afraid. He toddled around the rooms just as curiously as always.

“What are you even doing?” the Jedi laughed, stooping to grab the child before he could dive headfirst into a basket of freshly delivered clean laundry.

“Coh,” Obi-Wan begged. “Peash?”

“No, you cannot hide in one of my newly cleaned cloaks,” Qui-Gon laughed, tickling Obi-Wan’s side and watching him wiggle and laugh in his little high-pitched voice. “No you don’t, no cloak-hiding. They’re giant, you’re tiny. You just disappear!”

“Da-peah!” Obi-Wan echoed cheerfully.

“Nooooo,” Qui-Gon sing-songed, spinning in a circle.

Obi-Wan gave a small peep of surprise.

Qui-Gon stopped, looking at the child’s expression, worried he had startled him. But then Obi-Wan giggled, and Qui-Gon smiled and spun around again.

Obi-Wan clapped his chubby palms together, thrilled.

Qui-Gon spun a little faster, letting Obi-Wan lean backwards in his arms a little, feeling the momentum as they twirled through the air. Obi giggled and gasped. His hands moved to Qui-Gon’s tunics, closing in the beige fabric for safety as they spun.

Their rooms became a watercolor blur for Obi, the familiar shapes and colors warping and blurring into a spiral.

His tufty, silky hair waved as he whirled through the air.

Qui-Gon was laughing, a warm deep rumbly sound that comforted Obi.

After a few moments, though, Qui-Gon slowed to a gentle stop, rubbing the pad of one large thumb thoughtfully over the place where the bruise had been, still upset over that one minor injury.

“Peeaash,” Obi-Wan begged, bouncing in his arms and trying to make him spin again.

“One second,” Qui-Gon said, moving across the room and bending down to dig around in a disorganized box he kept on the bottom shelf of one of the side tables. An old comm unit, a random shoe, a broken holo projector, and a scrap of paper sifted through his searching fingers before he found what he was looking for – a small silver cube that fit in the palm of his hand.

It was battered and a bit outdated, but he set it on the low center table and pressed the standby button. Then he turned the dial gently, and a moment later one of his favorite songs from his days as a Padawan warbled into being, distorted at first and then smooth as silk.

It was a slower song, some cheesy poetry about hyperspace and time, but it had a soothing melody and an easy rhythm.

He remembered playing this over and over again when he was about seventeen – at first just because he liked it, and then because it was driving Dooku up the wall.

Smirking, Qui-Gon gently began to spin again, first this way, then the other, so that nobody got dizzy.

Without thinking, he started to move around the room in a simple five-point-star pattern, pausing at every point and gliding to the center and then out again. It was a simple dance pattern, a common one seen in ballrooms and bars across the galaxy, and Obi-Wan loved it. He giggled with every spin and watched Qui-Gon’s feet curiously when he slid.

After a while, they got used to the motions.

Coruscant prime’s midday rays lit up the room in stark brightness, and the smell of that morning’s tea made the whole area smell soft and sweet. Obi-Wan looked up and gave Qui-Gon a shining smile, his lips moving to reveal rows of little white pearls with gaps where he was still missing teeth – including one of his very front teeth.

It was an endearing, adorable little grin.

Laughing, Qui-Gon spun them on the spot, dipping his head to bump their foreheads gently together.

“Deee,” the little one giggled.

“ _Awwwwwwwww_ ,” said Tahl, standing six feet away with a recorder and grinning at them. “Cute!”

“When did you get here!” Qui-Gon screeched.

“Tah!” Obi-Wan cheered, holding out his arms for her.

* * *

It was late afternoon, and Master Jinn was tired from a day packed with two saber classes and a meditation in the Living Force with a group of younglings. He tugged on the leather strap holding his hair, frowning as the sensation made his headache worse.

“Hello, Qui-Gon,” called a cheery voice. Feemor jogged down the hall to catch up with his former Master, grinning.

“Feemor!” Qui-Gon pulled him into a one-armed hug. “When did you get back?”

“Just now.” The blonde smirked. “Well, an hour ago. _I_ actually bother to stop by the Healers after a mission as _required.”_

Qui-Gon huffed.

“Anyways, I was hoping to have dinner with you and Obi-Wan, if you’re not busy?”

The Master smiled. “Not unless you object to Tahl also attending, she already asked to join us for dinner. We can be a party of four.”

“Excellent!” Feemor ran a hand through his hair, looking tired but excited. “Where is Obi, anyways?”

Qui-Gon shrugged. “I’m trying to track down Yoda, he was watching him this afternoon.”

Feemor froze.

Qui-Gon stared at him, confused. “What?”

“You’re… sure?” Feemor said. “He didn’t trade with someone else?”

“I’m sure,” Qui-Gon said suspiciously. “I swear to the stars, if Obi-Wan is wandering around unattended again, I’ll—”

“No, no, it’s not that…” Feemor cringed, eyeing his old Master. “Umm… it’s the opposite, actually. I know where Master Yoda is, he’s been in the same place all afternoon. If Obi-Wan is with Yoda…”

“Spit it out,” Qui-Gon said impatiently.

“Yoda’s been in Council session all afternoon with the full High Council,” Feemor blurted.

Dead silence.

Two Jedi Knights three hallways down jumped as a loud shout echoed off the walls: “HE TOOK MY BABY INTO A COUNCIL MEETING?”

*******

“Master, you can’t enter if you haven’t been summoned—” the young Knight outside the Council chambers looked alarmed, trying to get in the way. Feemor waved her down.

“No use,” he sighed. “He’s on a roll.”

Qui-Gon placed both palms against the double doors and flung them open with the Force so hard the metal gave a loud groan. They parted to reveal the circular, sunlit chamber where the twelve most revered Masters in the Order gathered for debate and decisions.

All the chairs were empty.

The entire Council was sitting in a circle on the floor, cooing and laughing as Obi-Wan toddled about in the center, chasing a sparkly object that was floating idly through the air, just out of his reach. Obi babbled and shrieked, looking delighted as the mysterious shiny thing evaded his grabby fingers and uncertain footsteps.

“Go, Obi-Wan, go!” cheered Sifo-Dyas.

“Obi, this way, this way,” Yaddle encouraged, her wrinkled face crinkling with a smile.

“You’ve almost got it,” Mace told the child, a grin on his usually solemn face. The object floated a little closer to the Korun Master, and Qui-Gon and Feemor, framed in the doorway, saw that it was one of the shiny bangles that Master Yaddle liked to wear around her small wrists. The Councilors were using the Force to levitate it and move it around.

Qui-Gon gaped at them all.

Obi-Wan tottered on the spot, missing the bracelet again, and he spotted the two men frozen in the doorway.

“Fee! Dee! Bah!” he crowed, waving one little hand.

The twelve Council members looked around, surprised to be caught off guard.

They stared at Qui-Gon.

Qui-Gon stared at them.

Obi-Wan grabbed the bangle and giggled, promptly trying to chew on it.

The Council kept staring.

Qui-Gon kept staring back.

Obi-Wan plopped onto his bottom and kept chewing on Master Yaddle’s jewelry, watching the byplay with interest. _“Bleee-dah-dee-moh-feee,”_ he mouthed around his new toy.

More staring back and forth.

“Isn’t this Council supposed to be… _in council_ … _?”_ Feemor broke the silence.

“Well,” Dooku said thoughtfully, “it’s hard to argue when there’s a baby in the room.”

“Yes, so we finished very early and very agreeably,” growled Wookie Tyvokka. He was smiling, and Obi’s blanket was over one shoulder.

“Good luck charm, is Obi-Wan,” said Yoda. “Brings happiness wherever he goes.”

Qui-Gon fixed his eyes on the Grand Master. “No, no, no, you cannot bring Obi-Wan to any more Council sessions!”

All the other Councilors exchanged looks.

“What about—” several of them said at the same time.

“No!” Qui-Gon complained. “None of the rest of you can, either!”

“But Jinn,” said Adi Gallia, “We’re his babysitters too. We can’t skip Council meetings, so Obi-Wan _has_ to come with us.”

All twelve Masters looked at him with happy, winning smiles. Obi smiled too, happy to see everyone else so happy.

Qui-Gon steamed, unable to come up with a valid argument. It wasn’t like it was feasible to make sure that no Councilors were babysitting during Council meetings, and he couldn’t ban them from babysitting altogether. Feemor hid his grin behind one hand, watching his bullheaded Master flail in the face of the Council’s adoration of Obi-Wan Kenobi.

“It’s official,” announced Mace Windu, pulling Obi into his lap. “Obi-Wan Kenobi is the Council’s mascot.”

Qui-Gon's eyes widened.

“Wait NO—"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, obviously, we're not quite finished Xanatos. But don't worry. This really is *mostly* fluff and baby disasters! Our resident villain won't steal the show.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Obi is mischievous, Feemor has a balancing act, and Dooku gets babysitting duty again!

Obi-Wan crouched on his sock-clad feet, his palms resting on the floor in front of him.

Wide blue-green eyes watched curiously as Qui-Gon groaned something unintelligible in his sleep, shifting from his side to lay flat on his back, one arm tucked under his head.

“Dooooo…” whispered Obi, wiggling his bottom like a kitten preparing to pounce.

Qui-Gon remained blissfully unaware.

Obi shuffled a little closer across the bedsheets, frowning when one of his small hands got tangled up in the duvet. He tugged on it, his lower lip protruding in a tiny pout. “Mooh,” he whispered at it, his eyebrows drawing together in frustration. “Owd!”

The hand came free, and Obi-Wan grinned.

He wiggled again, eyeing the distance between himself and his goal.

There were a few seconds of contented, sleepy silence and then—

“DEE!” Obi-Wan shouted, pouncing on to Qui-Gon’s stomach.

The Jedi let out a startled _“Oof!”_ as all the air was driven out of his lungs and he woke from a gentle sleep to find an excited child jumping all over him, giggling.

Qui-Gon sat up a bit too quickly.

The baby let out a startled _eep_ of shock as he went tumbling off the Jedi’s chest and fell towards the floor, but before Obi-Wan could really register what was happening, two big hands caught him round the middle and hauled him back, squishing him against Qui-Gon. Obi-Wan buried his face in the familiar tunics immediately.

“What was _that_ , you little imp?” Qui-Gon laughed, his voice low and rumbly from sleep.

“Dee,” Obi piped up in a muffled voice, still squashed happily in a hug.

“Mm-hmm,” said Qui-Gon, shaking his head affectionately. “I’m going to have to keep a closer eye on you, aren’t I?”

He attempted to disentangle their hug and get out of bed, but Obi clung to his nightclothes stubbornly.

“Oh?” Qui-Gon asked. “Are we staying here now?”

“Yuf,” came the muffled reply.

“Oh, all right, you’ve defeated me with your exceedingly clever arguments,” the Jedi said dramatically, reclining back onto his pillow, keeping Obi-Wan secure against his chest. “I guess we have to stay here a bit. Just for a little while.”

Obi hummed contentedly, curled up on Qui-Gon’s chest with one of the Jedi’s arms around him, and he closed his eyes as he felt Qui-Gon tug the bedclothes back over them gently.

…And that is the story of how Qui-Gon Jinn, the maverick diplomat of the Jedi Order, slept in till noon because his ward wanted to snuggle.

* * *

“Poke.”

“Poh.”

“Poke.”

“Poh!”

“Poke!”

“Poh!” shrieked Obi-Wan.

“Poke!” shouted Yoda.

Feemor sighed. “Master, you’re going to unbalance me.”

Yoda grumbled. “Fall, you will not, if your concentration, you keep! Focus!” He reached down and swatted Feemor across the shoulder with his gimer stick.

Feemor sighed, but a smile was tugging on his lips.

After all, it was not every day you carried a baby on one shoulder and the Grand Master of the Order on the other, drawing startled glances from everyone you passed because the two small beings kept getting into poking fights.

“…poh,” Obi whispered, tapping a small finger against one of Yoda’s large batlike ears.

The ear twitched and Yoda yelped. “My ears, you do not have permission to touch!”

Obi-Wan cackled.

“Poke!” said Yoda, bopping the baby directly on the nose.

Obi-Wan’s mouth popped open in outrage.

Adi Gallia, passing by, had to duck her head and cover her face to hide the enormous grin on her face. As soon as she rounded the nearest corner, she pulled out her comm and called Mace Windu.

“Windu.”

“Mace,” Adi laughed, leaning against the wall. “You’re going to love this.”

* * *

“Don’t lose him this time,” Qui-Gon said, only half-teasing.

Dooku balanced Obi-Wan on his hip and nodded at his former apprentice. “I promise, we’ll keep a much closer eye on him this time.”

“I know,” Qui-Gon said, smiling at Obi and ruffling his ginger-blonde hair in farewell.

“Where are you off to, again?” Dooku queried.

“I promised to spar with Koon’s Padawan, young Xanatos,” Qui-Gon answered, waving at Obi-Wan.

“Bleee, bah-doh,” Obi-Wan said a little sadly, waggling one arm in imitation of a wave.

“Bye-bye, Obi,” Qui-Gon said fondly.

“Bah-doh, deeeee…” Obi-Wan sighed.

Dooku started to laugh.

“What?” Qui-Gon asked.

Dooku snorted, somehow making the sound refined. “Your ignorance is amusing, that’s all.”

He started to shut the door in the younger man’s face.

“Wait, what?” Qui-Gon asked, trying to get in the way. Obi-Wan giggled as Qui-Gon jammed his foot in the doorway, peering through at them.

“If you bothered to look or listen, you’d know,” Dooku said primly. “This is why successful people use the Archives.”

“Wait—” Qui-Gon groused. “Is this about something you learned about Obi-Wan? What is it? You have to tell me, I need to know!”

“Figure it out,” Dooku said cheerfully, and shut the door.

Qui-Gon stalked off grouchily for his spar.

The older Master smiled down at his temporary charge, and Obi smiled back, his small arms automatically clinging to Dooku in a hug.

“Well then, young man,” said Dooku thoughtfully. “What shall we do today? Would you like to practice moving things with the Force? It’s never to early to refine your fine motor skills.”

“Blee-guh-fah,” babbled Obi-Wan.

“Excellent.” Dooku plopped the child on a blanket spread on the floor, backed away, and held up a stuffed tooka toy that Jocasta had provided. “Let’s start with floating this in midair.”


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dooku returns Obi with a permanent plus one; Tahl introduces the baby to something new; and Obi-Wan pulls another vanishing act.

“Obi-Wan has adopted a tooka toy,” Dooku said blithely, handing the sleepy child back to Qui-Gon. “It’s his now. Take it away from him and he’ll look at you so sadly you’ll realize you’re the scum of the galaxy. Good day.”

Qui-Gon watched in complete confusion as his old Master strode away, his long cape flowing as dramatically behind him as ever.

Then he looked down at Obi, who was leaning against his bearded cheek and gently sucking on the synth-fur ear of a very blue toy tooka.

“Ahh… is this your new friend, Obi?” Qui-Gon asked curiously.

“Doo-fuh,” mumbled Obi.

“Is that its name, or an answer?”

Obi-Wan removed his mouth from the toy and waggled it in Qui-Gon’s face. “Doo-fuh,” he repeated.

“Okay…” Qui-Gon said, still confused. He kissed the top of the downy head and bounced Obi-Wan on his hip. “We’ve both had a very busy day it seems. What should we do for dinner, hmm? Maybe we can convince Tahl to feed us.”

“Tah!” Obi said exuberantly.

They strode off down the hallway in search of free dinner, a fluffy blue tooka bouncing over Qui-Gon’s shoulder.

* * *

Tahl shook her head as Obi-Wan stared at her, his expression somewhere between disappointed and worried.

“You still don’t like it?” she waved the spoon of goulash at him and he slowly opened his mouth to take a bite. He ate it, but his expression was determinedly bland, and it was obvious that this tiny child was trying very hard to be polite.

“I don’t understand it,” Qui-Gon said, shaking his head. He took a large spoonful of his own goulash and hummed with pleasure. “It’s delicious. Your cooking always is. And Obi-Wan likes this kind of meat.”

“It’s not too spicy, or he’d be red-faced and upset,” Tahl mused. “Maybe it’s not flavorful _enough?”_

“What?” Qui-Gon said. “No, no, don’t—”

Too late. Tahl reached into a basket and pulled out three spice dispensers, dashing them quickly into Obi-Wan’s bowl and stirring it.

The next spoonful made Obi-Wan lick his lips thoughtfully, but he still didn’t look interested.

Tahl added another round of seasonings.

“Tahl,” Qui-Gon warned.

Obi-Wan smiled at her after the next spoonful, and Tahl grinned.

“Somebody likes his spices!”

“Don’t give him _more—”_

The Noorian Master ignored Qui-Gon and pulled out an entirely new container. She tipped this one very gently over the bowl, and a puff of bright red-sienna powder fell into the dish. When Tahl stirred it, the entire serving of goulash turned a richer color.

 _“Tahl!”_ Qui-Gon yelped. “Is that—”

The spoonful was in Obi-Wan’s mouth before he could leap to his feet, looking horrified.

There was a pause.

“Mmmm!” Obi-Wan cried, clapping his hands. “ _Mmm_ , Tah! Moh! Peash?”

 _“Yes!”_ Tahl punched a fist in the air. “Spicy food lover.”

“Tahl he’s a BABY!” Qui-Gon wailed, watching Obi-Wan happily slurp his dinner with a traumatized expression. “He can’t have _Mandalorian spices,_ he’ll burn his tastebuds!”

“Oh, worrywart,” Tahl waved away his concerns. “Mandalorian children are raised on this stuff. He barely had a taste. I’ll warm him up to the real stuff gradually.”

_“Real stuff?!”_

Tahl ignored him, leaning in to press a fond kiss to Obi’s soft forehead. “ _Tiingilar_ by the time you’re thirteen, I think,” she crooned.

“Obi,” Qui-Gon said seriously, “if Tahl lights your mouth on fire, you tell me, and I will have Dooku kick her butt, because he absolutely can.”

“And you can’t,” she reminded him. “At least, not consistently.”

Obi-Wan slurped his Mando-spicy goulash, happily oblivious to the wounded egos and ridiculous culinary worries of the adults in his life.

* * *

Qui-Gon woke them a little earlier than usual one morning, gently lifting Obi-Wan from the bed, where the child was curled up on his side in a little divot he’d made for himself in the blankets, his tooka toy under one arm and the other still stretched out to the place where Qui-Gon had slept.

Obi mewed unhappily as he was removed from his cozy spot. Blue-green eyes opened blearily up at Qui-Gon, and a grumpy pout formed on the little face.

“Good morning, little one,” Qui-Gon murmured, bringing the child closer and nuzzling his cheek, never quite able to resist cuddling Obi when he had the chance. Obi-Wan snuggled him back, his free hand reaching up, clumsy with sleep, and patting the Jedi’s cheek.

“I have a little adventure for us today,” Qui-Gon continued. “But it’s best to see in the morning. Would you like to come see?”

Obi yawned.

“That’s a yes,” Qui-Gon decided. “Come along, little imp.” He snagged up the soft blanket as they left, placing it over his shoulder for Obi-Wan to doze on as they exited their quarters and traversed the peaceful, empty halls of the Jedi Temple at dawn.

Pinkish light came muted through the windows, making everything seem warmer and softer.

Qui-Gon checked on his ward and found Obi-Wan blinking sleepily back at him, his stuffed tooka in front of his face.

They walked for about ten minutes, taking lifts and stairwells, winding upwards to one of the lesser used areas of the enormous Temple. It was even quieter here. Eventually, they came to a set of transperisteel doors, and with a wave of Jinn’s hand they parted, allowing the twosome entry.

It was a large room with one wall and the ceiling entirely composed of transperisteel, allowing the morning sunlight to suffuse the room. The air was cleaner and fresher in here, but also denser – heavy with moisture. Long tables lined the room, tall shelves lined the walls, and almost very surface was layered with growing things.

Greenery flourished.

There were purple vines, and yellow flowers larger than Obi’s head, and tiny pink blossoms smaller than the human eye could easily perceive; some of the plants were moving seemingly of their own accord, while others sat still and quiet, and few even seemed to be dormant, dull and blue-grey in appearance.

A bird sang somewhere.

Obi-Wan stirred at the noise and lifted his head to look around.

“See?” Qui-Gon asked him. “This is the Greenery. Many Jedi keep plants here – that table over there is full of plants that have healing properties. Master Che likes to have her own on hand. But many of them are mine, come see.”

He walked them closer to the clear wall, overlooking Coruscant. There was a long table here, too, and this one was full to bursting with plants of all kinds. There were even potted plants underneath the table and lined up against the windows.

Obi-Wan leaned in the Jedi’s arms, pointing at a puffy sort of bush that was rustling as if in a gentle breeze, its many pink flowers shining so brightly they almost looked wet. “Ohh?” Obi asked, his voice tiny with residual sleepiness. “Pah?”

“That’s a _felkeela_ , from Torinka V,” Qui-Gon said. “It’s name in Basic is blush-plastoid. A silly name,” he mused. “But the petals do look almost fake, so somebody with a very boring, practical mind must have named it. Pity.”

“Piddee,” Obi-Wan echoed.

“Well—no, the plant is called _felkeela_ ,” Qui-Gon said, smiling. “Can you try that? _Felkeela?”_

“Fuldkeldelalala,” Obi-Wan sputtered, clearly overwhelmed.

“Fel,” Qui-Gon said. “Kee. Lah.”

“Lah,” said Obi.

_“Felkeela.”_

“Flah.”

“Oh well,” said Qui-Gon. “We’ll get there.”

Then he gasped, his brow furrowing sharply.

Obi-Wan blinked in surprise as Qui-Gon promptly set Obi on the floor, leaning over the tabletop to touch some purple-blossomed plant with spindly green leaves as thin as straws.

“Oh _no,”_ Qui-Gon mourned, running his hands over the leaves. “Oh, no, no, I left this one too long – oh, _look_ at it, the poor thing!”

He sounded distraught.

Obi-Wan looked up at him, concerned, but Qui-Gon didn’t even notice.

The life-loving Jedi Master was entirely absorbed in his plant, picking up the pot it was in very gently and examining it, poking his fingers very gently into the soil and moaning in horror when he felt how dense and bent the roots had become.

“Oh, you sweet little thing, I neglected you,” he sighed.

Obi-Wan saw something move out of the corner of his eye.

His mouth popped open in surprise, but before he could speak—

Qui-Gon set the plant back down and rubbed the blossoms, cringing when he felt the texture. “I don’t even know if it’s possible to transplant you safely. I’m sorry.”

Qui-Gon studied the plant for a moment longer, then sighed and straighted up. “Well, Obi—”

Except – yet again – Obi-Wan Kenobi was not there.

Qui-Gon looked around the room in bewilderment, hoping to see the child toddling up and down the rows of tables or perhaps attempting to climb a shelf, but the small pajama-clad figure was nowhere in sight.

The doors were closed.

“What—” Qui-Gon ran a hand over his eyes. _“What!”_

This was getting ridiculous.

Could the child teleport?!

Qui-Gon strode towards the doors, glancing left and right as he did, hoping Obi-Wan would pop into view from behind one of the many tables, but he reached the sealed doors and still there was no sign of him.

Qui-Gon turned around, and just happened to glance at the row of plants sitting against the windows.

One of them was something between a bush and a tree, about five feet tall in its pot with enormous, drooping leaves that fountained out of the top and then hung down, brushing the floor. The plant was stirring and swaying; the outer leaves were still, but the inner leaves were moving around much more than usual.

Something inside shifted, and a bright blue tooka toy rolled out from the leaves.

Qui-Gon gaped.

He rushed back across the room and knelt down next to the tree, picking up the tooka as he did. Peering between the glossy leaves, each one several feet long and as wide as his arm, he could just barely make out a pajama-clad foot.

“Obi?” he said, completely bewildered.

“ _Bah_ ,” came a very muffled voice. “ _Paht_. Gwee. Paht _-dee-blo._ Owd.”

“You want to come out of the plant,” Qui-Gon translated, sounding dazed. “Um. Yes. I’d like you to come out of the plant too.”

 _“Owd!”_ Obi-Wan called.

Qui-Gon reached out his free hand, but as soon as his fingers came near the outer leaves, the entire tree shuddered violently and the leaves snapped tightly together like a wall. Obi let out an even fainter cry of surprise.

“Obi-Wan?” Qui-Gon called.

This time there was no reply.

“Hmm,” Qui-Gon said, studying the plant thoughtfully. “You’re not carnivorous, I know that much. _Thank the stars_. So what do you want with a human child?”

The plant remained very still.

Qui-Gon ran a finger down one of the leaves. The tree shuddered again, and Obi let out another muffled _eep_.

Slowly, the Jedi Master unfurled his Force signature, allowing it to glow as brightly as it could, a small sun. The Living Force was strong with him, and it was easy to entangle his signature with the small one the plant possessed, like a handshake.

“Hello,” Qui-Gon said gently. “Can I have him back, please?”

The plant was not sentient, exactly, but it emitted waves of mine-no-shiny-warm-mine.

“Shiny?” asked Qui-Gon. “He’s not shi—oh. Did you see his Force presence, little tree? Yes, Obi is _very_ bright and warm, when he wants to be. He must have liked you, liked the whole Greenery, to show you that. But he can’t _stay_ with you, he needs my care.”

The tree rustled indignantly.

“Yes, he does,” Qui-Gon said.

It wasn’t really necessary to use words; the plant couldn’t understand him, but the words helped him focus on what he wanted his Force signature to emit, and besides, it helped distract Qui-Gon from the fact that even the Temple plants were willing to abduct his ward.

The plants.

THE.

_PLANTS!_

“He needs me,” Qui-Gon continued. “And I need him too. May I have him back, please? I promise, he’ll be back to visit.”

(But not too close.)

After a long moment, the long leaves began to part like a curtain, and then the inner layer unfurled, and there was Obi-Wan, wide-eyed and tousle-haired, cupped in the leaves like a baby bird in someone’s hand.

Qui-Gon caught him before he could tumble the same way the tooka toy had and bundled him close, quickly assessing him, looking for scrapes or traces of sap, or some kind of allergic reaction.

There was nothing, unless you counted Obi’s indignant pout.

“Doh,” he said in disgust. _“Paht.”_

“No plant,” Qui-Gon agreed, pressing a kiss to Obi-Wan’s forehead. “Back to bed with both of us, I think. We can afford to sleep some more before the day really begins.”

He handed the tooka toy back to Obi, who squealed, “Doofuh!” and clutched it to his face, smiling up at Qui-Gon as if the Jedi had just set the stars to rights. Qui-Gon exhaled forcefully and kissed the top of the ginger head again, somewhere between frustrated, amused, and relieved. This child, honestly.

He shook his head and rubbed Obi-Wan’s back as they walked back to their rooms, trying to figure out how he was going to explain to the babysitter roster that nobody was allowed to set Obi-Wan on the floor in the Greenery.

Feemor was going to laugh himself silly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Qui-Gon: *makes confused dad noises*
> 
> Mado'a:  
> Tiinglar - an insanely spicy Mandlorian casserole-like dish


	15. Chapter 15

It wasn’t a Council meeting.

Well, it was, and it wasn’t.

It had been earlier, and now it wasn’t, because when Qui-Gon had come to retrieve Obi-Wan from Master Yaddle, his babysitter for the morning, he had brought along Feemor, Tahl, and Master Che as well, and suddenly it was a meeting of the Babysitters Club.

“Don’t,” threatened Mace Windu in a deathly tone, “refer to us as such again.”

“What,” said Feemor, who had used the term, in an innocent voice. “The Babysitters Club?”

“Stop!” shouted several cringing Jedi Masters.

“Well what else should we call ourselves, if not the Babysitters Cl—”

 _“Anything_ else,” snapped Dooku, looking disgusted. “Almost literally.”

“Like what?” asked Tahl, looking highly amused at the petty argument. She folded her arms and smirked, unafraid of the infamous glare of Mace Windu. He growled at her and shook his head.

 _“No._ No, that name is not sticking just because we can’t come up with something else.”

“But how else should we call ourselves?” persisted Feemor. “If not the Babys—”

“STOP IT!” shouted half the Council.

Tyvokka gave a loud Wookie howl, silencing the brewing argument. “This is ridiculous! We can brand ourselves at a later date! Master Jinn, why did you want to speak to us?”

The remaining Jedi all turned their attention to Qui-Gon, who was standing tall and serene in the face of their scrutiny, blithely uncaring that Obi-Wan was currently crawling beneath his cloak to cling to his leg, humming happily to himself as he did.

“I had an update to inform the roster,” Qui-Gon said. “I took Obi-Wan to the Greenery yesterday morning and there was… an incident.”

Vokara Che looked alarmed, eyeing the wiggling lump under Jinn’s robes that was Obi-Wan. “What kind of incident? Was he exposed to an allergen?”

Qui-Gon mumbled something that sounded suspiciously like _‘That would have been preferable.’_

“What?” Che demanded.

Qui-Gon sighed. “A plant kidnapped him.”

There was a long silence.

Several of the Jedi exchanged glances, some of them clearly confused, some of them exasperated, and a few already amused.

Only Jinn. Only Jinn could lead this absurd life.

“A plant… what?” asked Madame Nu delicately.

“It grabbed him while I was looking at a different plant,” Qui-Gon said. Was that an embarrassed flush creeping up his face? Surely not. “I set Obi on the floor for less than a minute, and it hid him in its branches. It took some convincing to get him back.”

“Which plant?” asked Adi Gallia curiously. She was among those with an amused glint to her eyes, although she was fighting to keep a straight face.

“The maiden-tree,” Jinn huffed. “Big long leaves. It wouldn’t let him go. Obi-Wan was… displeased.”

Someone stifled a snort.

“So,” Yoda said, his voice weirdly strained. “Let him out of your sight, you did, and allowed a semi-sentient plant to take him? Hmm?”

Qui-Gon jutted out his chin. “…Yes.”

“And you came here today to inform us that, if we take him to the Greenery, Obi-Wan Kenobi is in danger of being kidnapped by plants that like to cuddle him.” Mace said, stone-faced.

Qui-Gon closed his eyes. “…Yes.”

There was another pause.

And then the entire room erupted into barely-stifled laughter, giggles, and open guffaws. Feemor was leaning on Tahl, both of them laughing uproariously.

Obi peeked out of the big robes he was hiding in, blinking confusedly at them all.

The laughter mounted.

Qui-Gon mumbled something rude and plucked Obi-Wan out from his cloak, perched the baby on his hip, and walked out of the Council chambers without dismissal.

“Watch out for the hedge line on the twelfth level,” called Dooku as the doors closed after them. “You never know when a bush may try to steal your child!”

Yoda was laughing so hard he nearly toppled from his Councilor’s seat.

* * *

Vokara smiled as Obi-Wan caught one of her fingers in one of his chubby fists, laying on his back on the examination bed. He cooed and grinned at her, waving her hand around in his own.

“You got me,” she chuckled. “Quick reflexes will serve you well, little Kenobi.”

 _“Beeeeee,”_ he burbled. “Bee-bluh-bab.”

“Is that so?” she said thoughtfully.

Qui-Gon raised an eyebrow, reclined in the bedside chair as he always was during these appointments. “Was he actually saying something? Or just baby babble? I feel like he switches between both.”

Vokara hummed under her breath. “He does do both. I suspect it’s a quirk of his biology; I have yet to determine how much Old Stewjoni he has in him. It’s not something determined as easily as a blood test.”

Qui-Gon tilted his head, looking pensive. “Old Stewjoni?”

Vokara raised her eyebrows, her lekku twitching in annoyance and surprise. “Yes, as I’ve mentioned before.”

“I know,” he admitted, “but I’d always assumed that simply meant… I don’t know. Old bloodlines, possible allergies—”

 _“Allergies?”_ the Chief Healer said incredulously, but Jinn plowed ahead.

“But my old Master has mentioned Stewjoni ancestry multiple times, too. I’m missing something, aren’t I?”

“Many things, clearly,” she retorted, then returned her gaze to Obi-Wan and instantly melted into a smile, crooning as Obi-Wan examined her blue skin with interest, tracing one of her fingernails with his small fingers. She traced his nose and brushed a chubby cheek with a fond expression.

“Vokara,” Qui-Gon prompted.

She gave a put-upon sigh, picking up Obi-Wan and cradling him in her arms, his head in the crook of one elbow and his feet resting in the other as if he were a smaller infant, giving him time to recuperate from his most recent inoculation. The Healer bounced him gently, swaying as she did, and Obi blinked contentedly and mumbled softly.

“Stewjon, when it was admitted to the Republic,” she began, “was a planet inhabited by an avian-humanoid species. Shorter than the average baseline human, they were long-lived and possessed clawed feet and wings as well as arms. Over time, the species interbred heavily with other races that settled there, primarily humans of various sorts. All these millennia later, most Stewjoni natives are so close to baseline human that there’s not enough difference to bother about, but a small percentage of the population have… Older blood. Old Stewjoni, they’re called – by polite company. There are some who hate them for their nature.”

Qui-Gon leaned forward in his seat, his eyes flickering between Vokara Che and the baby in her arms. His jaw was tense.

“I… what does this mean, for Obi-Wan?”

She shrugged slightly. “Like I said, I can’t fully determine how much of his Old Stewjoni ancestry he is benefiting from. Some things may not appear until later in life. So far I’ve noticed that he’s got remarkable eyesight, above average reflexes, and a few other developmental things.”

Qui-Gon rose to his feet, holding out his arms. Obi-Wan was passed to him, and Jinn took up the rocking, swaying motion that the Healer had been using, watching as Obi beamed up at him, his babble escalating. “Blee-da-dee! Moh! Luh-luh-luh-luh _deeeeee…”_

“Developmental?” he asked, hesitantly.

Vokara laid a reassuring hand on his arm. “Nothing bad, Qui-Gon, you haven’t been neglectful,” she said, her tone softening. “He’s a late walker, assuming he actually is about three months past his first year. That’s not uncommon. Even a baseline human might learn to walk this late, and Obi-Wan is not baseline. He’s also small for his age, but very bright. A lot of his baby babble is retained language, or baby-language at least, from the Stewja tongue.”

Qui-Gon studied the happy face staring up at him, suddenly seeing things he hadn’t before. The unusual blue-green of the eyes, the small size and the light weight.

His expression must have looked strained, because Obi-Wan’s bright smile, tiny pink lips and small pearly teeth, faded away.

The child’s Force signature swirled up like leaves caught in an autumn wind, and brushed against Qui-Gon’s – not cold or worried, but warm and earnest, like a hug. Qui-Gon huffed a small laugh and buried his head against Obi-Wan’s, brushing their foreheads together. Obi-Wan hummed happily.

Then something Che had said struck him. “Stewja tongue? But what—”

His question was cut off by a rapid knock on the door, and before Master Che could answer, the knocker entered, walking at once towards Qui-Gon with only the briefest bow to both Masters.

“Master Qui-Gon,” said Xanatos, his striking cobalt eyes fixed on the tall man’s face, ignoring both Healer and child. “It’s good to see you. I’m sorry for tracking you down unexpectedly; you were late for our meditation session, and someone mentioned you were in the Halls of Healing.” He gave a self-deprecating laugh, flashing strong white teeth. “I guess I jumped to conclusions. I thought you were injured.”

Qui-Gon chuckled. “Not to worry, Xanatos. I’m sorry, our appointment ran over time. I’m not injured, it’s just a checkup.”

“Of course,” Xanatos said, laughing with mild embarrassment. “We can find another time for our meditation.”

“Later this afternoon?” Qui-Gon offered. “I’ll be quite free then.”

The Padawan smiled. “So will I. That would be great! Thank you, Master.”

Vokara folded her arms and frowned at the interaction.

Her eyes settled on Obi-Wan.

He had gone very still and quiet in Jinn’s arms; his Force presence had shrunk to almost nothing, as if he were trying to hide himself again. Che’s eyes narrowed.

“If you have extra time, could you possibly teach me the next kata in Ataru?” Xanatos DuCrion asked eagerly. “My Master has been so busy with the Council this month that he hasn’t had time.”

Qui-Gon hesitated. “I’m sure Master Koon wants to teach you himself—”

“The thing is,” Xanatos pressed on, “I’d love to surprise him with it. Just this one kata. Please, Master?”

Again with the ‘Master,’ Vokara noted. No other name or title. Like he was addressing his own Master.

“Very well,” said Qui-Gon, grinning. “I’d love to help.”

Obi-Wan hid his face in Qui-Gon’s tunics, but none of them were looking at him anymore.

* * *

“Qui!” Tahl strolled right into Jinn’s quarters without a care, her long coiled hair loose today. She glanced around, and not seeing anyone, sneakily hid a container of Mandalorian spice into the cabinet.

She turned back to the room, thoughtful. “Qui? She called again.

There was a muffled exclamation from the baby’s room and a thump.

Tahl strode towards the door, sending it sliding open with a flick of one hand, and stopped short in the doorway, her eyebrows climbing towards her hairline. “…Oh…my…”

Obi-Wan’s cradle, unused now since had had moved to Qui-Gon’s bed months ago, was shoved up against one wall. The unused Padawan bed was shoved against another. In fact, all the furniture was up against the walls except for a table in the center, and all the furniture was connected by blankets strung up over them, held in place with random objects – bowls, stacks of holopads, a box of random junk.

A fluffy ginger head popped out from under the nearest blanket. “Luh-luh Tah!”

“Luh-luh, Obi,” she said, crouching down in front of him. “Is this… a fort?”

There was a disturbance under one of the other blankets. “This,” came Qui-Gon’s muffled voice, very dignified, “is the Jinn-Kenobi-Doofuh Fort.”

“The—” Tahl stopped. Then she dissolved into peals of laughter, which made Obi giggle too, crawling out from his hidey hole and into her lap. “I love it,” she praised.

Qui-Gon stuck his head out, hair ruffled and staticky, smiling broadly at her. “Want to come inside?”

“Wouldn’t miss it,” she answered.


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Qui-Gon introduces his ward to the commissary, and Obi-Wan has big dreams for his toys.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~one month later...~

Up until today, Qui-Gon had been taking his meals either in his quarters or in the quarters of close friends – it had seemed too much, bringing the small child entrusted to his care into the commissary, surrounded by scores if not hundreds of Jedi at their most talkative.

But Obi-Wan had grown accustomed to the entire Council, a Healer, and two additional Knights, sometimes all together.

Trying to have an early lunch – before the crowds grew too thick – didn’t seem so risky now.

Qui-Gon smiled as he dropped down to a crouch in front of his ward, sitting on a blanket and playing with his beloved Doofuh. Obi smiled and cooed, delighted to have Qui-Gon almost at his eye level. The Jedi stroked one chubby cheek gently, watching as the child beamed and wiggled on his bottom, expecting to be picked up or perhaps just pecked on the forehead and left to continue playing.

Instead, the tall Jedi Master tilted his head to one side and asked the blue-eyed boy very seriously, “Would you like to go on an adventure, Obi?”

“Bah-bleeee, bup!” Obi agreed.

*******

At first, nobody seemed to notice them.

Qui-Gon held Obi-Wan on his hip, monitoring him carefully with his eyes and through their bond to make sure he wasn’t overwhelmed. Obi just seemed curious and surprised. Wide blue-green eyes examined all the new sights with interest, his mouth pursed.

Qui-Gon filled a tray with today’s offerings, focusing on dishes he knew that both of them enjoyed.

They took their seats at towards the middle of one of the longest tables; from here, they could see most of the few dozen Jedi already spread out through the enormous commissary, but were still far away from them, able to observe without being crowded.

Obi-Wan was secured in a booster seat across from Qui-Gon, who served his ward one dish at a time, allowing the child to feed himself with his small, clumsy hands.

“Hey there.” Tahl swung herself onto the bench seat beside Obi, ruffling his ginger hair casually as she did.

He peeped excitedly, cheeks bulging with an overlarge bite of meat stuffed roll.

“Tahl,” Qui-Gon said, warmly. “Glad to see you!”

“I’m here for the food,” she teased. “And the baby.”

 _“Fah,”_ Obi-Wan sang, swallowing his food. Then he grinned and pointed one little finger towards the main entrance. “FEE!”

A few Jedi looked around, startled and amused at the volume of the tiny bright voice. Feemor laughed and jogged the rest of the way to their table, sliding in to sit on Obi-Wan’s other side.

“Oh, I see,” Qui-Gon said, shaking his head. “Nobody wants to sit with me.”

“Nah,” said Feemor and Tahl in unison.

Obi-Wan pressed a small pink fruit between his lips and kicked his feet around happily, watching the adults break into banter. Feemor dodged a deftly thrown bread roll, catching it with the Force before it could hit the floor and laughing at his old Master as he continued to complain.

“Room for more?” Mace Windu stood a few feet away, balancing a tray on each arm.

“Of course,” said Qui-Gon. “Do you want to sit next to me?”

 _“Umm_ … yes?” Mace said, confused. He sat down on Qui-Gon’s left. “Hello Knight Uvain, Knight Ar’Gall.” He winked. “Hey Obi.”

“Luh,” said Obi-Wan, waving a sticky hand at the Councilor.

“Two trays, Mace?” Tahl asked, dispensing with formalities right away, bored with them as always. “Hungry much?”

Windu scowled at her. “No, one is for Adi.”

“Ohhhh,” realized Feemor. “She’s still on crutches?”

 _“Yes,”_ said a new, irritated voice. Adi Gallia hobbled into view, looking lovely as ever but rather worse for wear with casts on both legs and sleek lightweight crutches under each arm. “The rest of my injuries healed within the first week or so, but my legs…”

Mace winced.

“Practically shattered,” Adi sighed. “They say the scarring will be minimal with all the bacta treatments, but unless I want to walk crooked for the rest of my life, I need to take it easy for the next ten-day.”

“I’m sorry,” Tahl said sympathetically. “We Jedi can fend off a lot of things, but a rockslide isn’t usually one of them.”

Obi-Wan watched with concern on his little face as one of his favorite babysitters sat down very cautiously, allowing Mace to assist her only reluctantly. _“Oh moh,”_ he said sadly, and pressed one chubby palm to his lips, gave it a smacking kiss, and then waved it at Adi. Blowing her a kiss. Where had he even learnt that?

“Oh, _sweetie,”_ Adi said, foul mood melting away immediately. “Aren’t you just the kindest, Obi. Thank you.”

 _“Ah_ -deee,” he sang, cheered up by her smile.

Out of nowhere, Dooku sat down on Qui-Gon’s other side without so much as a by-your-leave, his cloak swirling as dramatically as ever.

“Hello, Master,” Feemor greeted him. “I didn’t know you were back from the Outer Rim yet.”

“I returned early this morning,” his Grandmaster said calmly, piercing his cut of meat with his fork and deftly starting to slice it. “I took the opportunity to indulge in some extra sleep and a morning tea, but I’m back on schedule, now.”

“Ah yes,” Qui-Gon deadpanned. “The absurd indulgence of sleeping seven hours instead of your usual five.”

“It’s a healthy, consistent schedule,” the silver-black haired man said coolly. “Something you never quite figured out.”

“I wake when I am needed,” Qui-Gon smiled. “The Force has not yet failed me as an alarm clock.”

“Sure,” said Feemor. “Whatever you say, Master.”

“What? It hasn’t!”

“Hello,” said Jocasta Nu, taking her seat beside Feemor, across from Dooku.

Qui-Gon raised his eyebrows as everyone welcomed her, his expression amused. “Like flies to honey,” he murmured under his breath, eyeing Obi-Wan as the child wiggled happily and babbled at everyone in between mouthfuls.

In fact, in the next ten minutes, they had attracted not one, not two, but thirteen new companions – Obi-Wan’s babysitters, plus a few of their friends.

Most of the first arrivals had finished eating, including Obi, but they all stayed there for almost an hour and a half, talking and laughing, radiating contented fellowship and joy into the Force, lightening up the entire commissary with it. Passing Jedi, strangers and acquaintances and friends alike, all waved or paused to say hello.

Obi-Wan smiled at every single one, even a certain raven-haired Padawan who hid behind Master Koon and didn’t say a word.

And everyone smiled at him, fascinated by the funny little boy who had charmed his way right into the heart of the Order – and especially Qui-Gon, who watched him so affectionately.

* * *

“Don’t you want to knock it over yet?”

“Mm-mm.”

Qui-Gon sighed. He raised his hand and gestured, picking up another item and levitating it every carefully with the Force.

“Now?”

_“Mm-mm.”_

Qui-Gon levitated another brightly painted toy block and placed it on top of the stack.

The stack, which was now mere inches from their ceiling, well above even Qui-Gon Jinn’s head.

Obi-Wan had been carefully directing Qui-Gon ever since it bypassed his own small reach.

“Another?” Qui-Gon said, struggling not to sigh.

Obi nodded enthusiastically. “Up up!”

A red block settled very, very gently on top of the tower.

“All right, Obi-Wan.” Qui-Gon shook his head. “All done.”

Obi-Wan gasped. “…No moh?” He toddled a little closer, his big eyes sad. After a moment, he plopped down on his bottom, nodding. _“…Oh-keeee.”_

Qui-Gon rubbed his forehead, feeling guilty. Obi-Wan wouldn't argue with him, but it was a little unfair. “...One more? I think we can only _fit_ one more, anyways.”

“Moh?” Obi said excitedly, clambering back to his feet to watch. Qui-Gon smiled and levitated a green block, inserting it feather-light in the narrow gap between the red block and the ceiling. When he was done, the gap between the tower and the ceiling was almost imperceptible.

“Good?” he asked his ward.

“Fan-oooo,” cheered Obi, racing over on wobbly feet to fling his arms round one of Qui-Gon’s legs in a thank-you hug.

Qui-Gon smiled and caressed the top of the red-blonde head, forgetting his frustration with the child’s tower-building fixation. “You’re very welcome, little imp.”

Obi hummed happily, burying his face in the fabric of Qui-Gon’s robes and clinging to his leg even tighter.

“Hey, Obi-Wan!” Feemor barreled into their quarters. “Do you want to— ** _oof!”_**

Jedi reflexes weren’t enough to prevent the blonde Knight from crashing full force into the block tower. Qui-Gon instinctively bent down and scooped Obi-Wan into his arms in a flash as, with a thunderous crash, scores of wooden blocks crumbled apart, bouncing off the floor and spinning in every direction. Feemor raised his hands. One arm shielded his face; the other waved desperately, calling on the Force to freeze the toys in midair. Gently, he let them settle on the floor.

All eyes turned to Obi.

The child was perched on Qui-Gon’s hip, his hands clapped over his ears and his eyes and mouth wide with surprise.

Slowly, he uncovered his ears and looked between Qui-Gon and Feemor.

“…Moh?” he asked, looking wounded.

“Oh, it is _so_ your turn to build a tower,” Qui-Gon said, and deposited the baby in Feemor’s arms.

Qui-Gon flopped on the sofa, kicking up his heels, and watched as horror dawned on his former Padawan’s face as he realized what he had to do. Obi-Wan pointed to a blue block across the room. “Go?” he asked brightly.


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> not me trying desperately to get my writing inspiration back, no sir

“And then, as quickly as his legs could carry him, he fled from his enemies and into the desert wastes!” a deep voice said.

Obi gasped.

“But he didn’t know,” the voice continued, “that he had chosen to settle on ancient grounds belonging to a Krayt dragon. The very, very oldest of the sands. And our brave hero… wandered out one night… crossing the desert, following the stars…”

A hand moved Doofuh the fuzzy blue tooka toy around the floor, imitating a living tooka on the prowl.

Qui-Gon peered very carefully around the corner into the common area, taking in the scene before him. Obi-Wan was sitting on a large quilt, dressed in his neatest clothes – miniature Initiate whites – and watching with wide eyes as his storyteller continued.

“And the dragon _pounced!”_ Dooku shouted, attacking Doofuh with his other hand.

Obi-Wan shrieked, rocking backwards on his bottom and then forwards again, clasping his hands on top of his head.

“But,” Dooku said reassuringly, “our friend was not so easily beaten! He evaded the claws of the mighty Krayt, and for three nights and three days he led the dragon on the greatest chase in history. Both of them hunters, both of them hunted. And…”

Qui-Gon placed his fingers over his lips, smiling, at the dramatized story time. 

“—the great hero, and when both of them were tired, completely tired, they laid down in the sands, unable to move another centimeter. The adventurer gazed into the eyes of the oldest and wisest of the Krayts, and they fell asleep that way.” Dooku laid the Tooka down with its face snuggled in the quilt next to Obi’s feet.

The child watched with big blue eyes, slowly lowering his hands back to his lap.

“When dawn came, they were the fastest of friends, loyal to the very last. And they say that that dragon later found a mate, and her children were stronger and wiser, more clever, than any others. The Greater Krayt dragons.”

He picked up the toy and offered it to Obi-Wan, who grabbed it eagerly and then cradled it in his lap, stroking its fluffy blue head with little fingers.

“And,” Dooku sighed, sounding rather sour, “… they lived… happily ever after. The end,” he snapped.

Qui-Gon couldn’t help laughing.

His former Master groaned at the sight of him, passing a weary hand over his eyes.

Obi-Wan giggled and lifted his arms in the air, reaching for his guardian, his baby-pearled smile shining. Qui-Gon swept over to him at once and scooped him up, pressing a casual kiss to the soft forehead. “Hello, little one,” he said. “I hear the tale of the mighty Jedi of old have become tooka tales. Did you have a good time with Master Dooku?”

 _“Yus-yus-yus,”_ he sang. “Wahn?” he held up his toy, bashing it accidentally on Qui-Gon’s nose.

“Hm?” Qui-Gon asked.

He had been trying, as of late, to understand more of the child’s chattering. He was beginning to pick up the differences between baby babble and the actual attempts at words, but it was harder, still, to differentiate between Basic and Stewjoni.

“Wahn?” Obi repeated curiously.

“Do I _want_ it?” Qui-Gon guessed.

Based on the ginger-haired baby’s grin, he was correct. “Why thank you,” Jinn said very politely, taking Doofuh gently and holding it on one shoulder, still easily within Obi-Wan’s reach. “That’s very nice, Obi.”

Obi cooed.

Qui-Gon looked over at Dooku as the older man rose gracefully to his feet, brushing his cloak of imaginary dust.

“I’ll be off, then,” he said imperiously. “Padawan. Obi-Wan.” He nodded to both of them, pausing to rub his thumb over a smudge on the baby’s outstretched hand, removing the dirt, and to murmur threateningly at Qui-Gon: “Not a word to anyone.”

“I don’t know what you mean,” the younger Jedi said serenely.

* * *

The long-haired Jedi Master, kneeling in meditation in one of the Temple’s many gardens, startled to attention when someone stalked directly up to him.

Qui-Gon blinked up at Tahl, who scowled.

“…What have I done now?” Qui-Gon asked warily.

A hint of a smile broke through her anger, and his oldest friend softened her stance a little. “Not _you,”_ she said, shaking her head. “Feemor.”

Jinn raised his eyebrows. “What did he do?”

“Stole Obi-Wan, of course!” she flung out her arms in outrage. _“Again!_ It was Yaddle’s turn to watch him, and somehow, during the time when she was supposed to be handing him off to me, Feemor grabbed him again!”

Qui-Gon stood up, sighing. “I really do have to talk to him about that. He insists that he has ‘big brother rights.’”

“Well _I_ have angry auntie rights,” Tahl smirked. “And if I don’t get my baby back in five minutes, there will be _hell to pay_ and the Order will be down one foolish Knight.”

“Wait a moment—” Qui-Gon raised a hand, halting his friend’s smug tirade, much to her chagrin. He cocked his head to one side, listening. “I sense Obi-Wan. He’s… moving this way.”

Tahl tilted her head, too.

A moment later, they both heard the sound of rapid footsteps, a baby’s soft coos, and a few muffled yelps and aborted curses.

Jocasta Nu strode through the doorway, a baby in one arm, and Feemor gripped painfully by one ear on the other. The Knight was taller than her, and had to keel over awkwardly sideways as he walked alongside the elder Archives Master. Obi-Wan waved cheerfully at them. “Luh-luh! Tah! Dee! _Luh-luh!”_

“Hey, Obi,” Tahl sang, waving back at him. She smirked at Feemor. “What’s that you have there, Jocasta?”

“A baby,” deadpanned Madame Nu. “Oh, and an idiot.”

Feemor swore in Huttese and received a sharp tug on the ear for his foolishness.

Qui-Gon burst into laughter.

* * *

Qui-Gon couldn’t understand how it happened so quickly.

The night before, he had put his ward to bed the same as he always did, separated by a mere foot, the small boy dozing off quickly and peacefully. Their Force bond had sunk to a quiet, pleasant hum in the background of their minds – like white noise, like rain.

And then suddenly—

It was morning, earlier than they normally woke, and Qui-Gon found himself staring at a small, quivering lump of curled-up Obi-Wan, complete with bright red cheeks, a pale face, and sniffles.

“Oh no… oh, dear,” Qui-Gon whispered, sitting upright quickly and resting a large hand on Obi-Wan’s hunched back. The baby leaned into the touch, whimpering in what looked like a very fitful sleep.

“Oh…” Qui-Gon hesitated, and then gently curled his hands around the child and drew him into his lap, letting Obi-Wan lean against his chest. Obi huddled into the warmth automatically, now half-awake; as soon as awareness started to return to him, Obi’s eyes filled with miserable tears and he let out a few sputtered cries.

Qui-Gon’s heart twisted. “Obi-Wan, Obi-Wan, I’m so so sorry little one… come here… shhh…” He rocked back and forth, wrapping him in a warm hug.

With one hand, he scrabbled blindly to the side for his comm unit, his frantic fingers finding it on the bedside table and inputting a number almost before he had thought it through.

“Hello?”

“Vokara, Obi-Wan is sick,” Qui-Gon said, his voice still rough from sleep. He looked down at the small child entrusted to his care, and felt his nerves spike again as Obi-Wan began to cry silently, gasping for breath, curling into a miserable, feverish ball. “I - I think he’s _very_ sick.” His voice shook slightly. He blamed that on the sudden awakening, too. 

“Bring him quickly,” Che instructed. “Leave all his toys and blankets behind; they’ll need to be washed before he can have them again. But bring fresh clothes, and try not to jostle him as you walk.”

“Understood.”

Obi-Wan whimpered again as Qui-Gon stood up, keeping the child protectively close to him as he did. “Force curse it,” Jinn muttered, looking around wildly for the fresh clothes Master Che had recommended. “I’m so _sorry_ , little one. Bear with me for a while. Master Che will make you all better.”

Obi-Wan just curled into his arms and continued to cry, kicking his feet in distress. One small hand curled tightly into Qui-Gon’s tunics and stayed there, holding on for dear life.


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Back again after a hiatus!
> 
> Obi-Wan is sick...  
> very sick.

Vokara Che was unabashedly cuddling her current patient.

It wasn’t such a breach of etiquette, considering said patient was not even a year and a half old, very cute, very dear to her, and currently very miserable.

Obi-Wan Kenobi sobbed into the front of her crisp Healer’s robes, curling and uncurling his whole body as he tried to find some position that didn’t make all his muscles ache, that made it easier to breathe, but nothing was working. His tears were flooding his bright red cheeks and he gasped quietly, his breath rattling with congestion.

“Shhhh, Obi-Wan, be calm,” Vokara soothed, flooding him with gentle reassurance in the Force.

Obi-Wan just kept gasping, frightened and sick.

He couldn’t breathe right.

His tummy hurt.

His head hurt.

His nose stung.

He felt _bad_ , and in that golden place where he was tied to Qui-Gon, he felt only carefully muted _worry_ and gentle waves of _warmth_ that did nothing to make Obi feel better.

Thinking about it – in his own small, half-formed way – made it worse.

Obi-Wan’s sobs turned into a single, fragile wail.

Vokara sighed and rocked him, gently running a blue finger down from the top of his head to the tip of his nose and back again, massaging his fevered forehead. Cautious ripples of healing energy followed its wake, just enough to soothe him a little.

Qui-Gon was standing a few feet away in the corner with his arms folded, towering and out of place in the Halls, like a particularly anxious tree. His expression was pained. “Can’t you fix him? Or at least put him to sleep?”

The Healer shook her head; her lekku were twitching slightly, a sign of her concern. “No. Forcing him to rest at this point could send the illness spiking – we don’t know exactly what it is, and until we do, we can’t force him to override what his body is telling him. He woke for a reason.”

“It’s just a fever,” Jinn protested weakly.

Vokara’s deep sapphire eyes met his squarely. She never did shy away from a hard truth, especially not the truths of Healing. “No.” she said. “It’s not.” She looked back down at the pale, pink-cheeked, tear-stained face once more and gently wiped away a few tears from the round cheeks, humming low in her chest so the child could feel it where he was pressed against her.

She looked back up at Qui-Gon. “Call Master Yoda. Now.”

Qui-Gon’s face went a shade whiter.

* * *

Yoda opened his eyes.

He was sitting lotus style on the bed beside Obi-Wan, his small clawed hand resting gently on the child’s forehead. Obi-Wan whimpered and squirmed, sputtering out coughs and sneezes from time to time.

Qui-Gon, Dooku, Tahl, Feemor, and Vokara Che were all standing nearby, trying not to hover too closely.

After a beat, Master Che spoke. “Master?”

The diminutive green Jedi let out a slow breath, his clawed hand ruffling the ginger-blonde hair gently. The large bat-like ears drooped. “Sick, is young Obi-Wan,” he began. Qui-Gon twitched as if he were fighting the urge to say ‘Obviously!’ Dooku put a hand on his shoulder.

“Sickness, crept in it did, yes,” Yoda hummed. “Opened a weakness, it did – took advantage of weaknesses in immunity, did the illness… and took advantage of weaknesses in his mind, did something else.”

Qui-Gon’s stomach swooped sickeningly. He took a half-step forward, paused, and then stumbled to the bedside, kneeling beside it and resting one large warm hand on Obi-Wan’s stomach, feeling his erratic breathing. “What—” the large Jedi stuttered to a halt. After a moment, he collected himself and began again. “What is it?”

The Grand Master looked at his Grandpadawan with gentle pity.

“Unsure, I am. A shadow. Great, it is – trace it to a single person, I cannot. The Darkness of the universe, it may be, the universe, as a whole. Bright, is Obi-Wan. Strong, is he. As the Light gathers around him like a blanket…” Yoda’s eyes drifted closed again, and he finished in a thoughtful murmur. “…draws over him, does the Dark, like a shroud.”

Qui-Gon’s voice broke. “It’s killing him.” It was not a question.

Behind him, Tahl strode forward and knelt behind him, resting one hand on his shoulder and reaching out with the other, placing it gently on top of his own, the one that was resting on Obi.

Dooku and Feemor were watching in disbelief; the youngest member of the Lineage looked shaken, his green eyes horrified, but Yan looked almost furious in his shock.

“No,” said Yoda. “Not yet.”

“How do we stop it?” Che demanded. “If I cure him medically, will that—”

“Help, that will. But not solve completely.”

Obi-Wan kicked his feet and rolled onto his side, reaching for Qui-Gon. Two little hands stretched towards him; big blue eyes filled with water were staring at him, the small mouth trembling as Obi-Wan cried.

Qui-Gon swept him into his arms, holding the child he had rescued, had bonded with, had taken into his home, as close as he could.

For the first time in decades, the Jedi felt small, and unsure, and frightened, cradling a vulnerable creature that was smaller and more frightened still. Qui-Gon rocked Obi-Wan back and forth, keeping himself as steady as possible with an iron will. “What do I do?” he demanded of the room at large.

Silence.

 _“What do I need to do?”_ Qui-Gon demanded.

“Know, I do not,” Yoda admitted. “But together, solve this, we can. We must.”

Obi-Wan buried his face in his caretaker’s tunics and cried with rattling breaths. Qui-Gon clung to him as if this one child were the only safe port in an endless storm, and struggled not to cry, one hand reaching back to clasp Tahl’s where it was gripping his shoulder. 

This was worse than even the most perilous moments in Feemor's apprenticeship - worse, because Obi-Wan was too young to defend himself or speak up for himself, because there was no cure in sight, because the cause was cast in doubt, because Obi-Wan was not Qui-Gon's Padawan, but his _child_ -

The next thing Qui-Gon knew, he had pitched forward on his knees and found himself being embraced gently by his own former Master, the child pressed between them, Qui-Gon's forehead pressed against Yan Dooku's. 

"Courage, Padawan," Dooku said quietly. "Listen to your Grandmaster. We will solve this together."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...all angst this time. I promise, the coming fluff will make up for it <3
> 
> Also, I'm on Tumblr now I guess. Find me as @the-last-kenobi -come say hi! My asks are always open, and I'm back to my teenage habit of aggressively blogging about my chaotic faves and the complicated world of Jedi Apprentice.


End file.
